To God it Cried
Abel's blood for vengeance.
For justice theirs cry
Much louder than his.
Oh victims of the neo-science!
In the echelon of the new world
Their silent voice though piercing,
Resounds in a deafening bang.
Altars are erected;
For God, no, for death
The altar of science thirsts for blood
Where Satan is himself the chief priest.
The undying voice of the defenseless:
Where could be safer?
When the womb can no longer contain
Can the test tube shelter?
Hei allies, agents of death!
Hardly had they lived than died.
Yes, they died once
You will die many times.
Weak and defenseless they seem
Powerful and protected you appear.
Yet God is their shepherd
And death your guardian.
Like them you longed to see the light
You deserved it no more than them.
Now you live so that they die
You too will die when they live…
Like Abel, their maker hears them
For He hears, who made the ear
Unlike Cain, he'll not spare you
Since He punishes, who corrects nations
 [Ps.94: 9-10]
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Comments about this poem (The Unborn by Austyn Chimbuoyim )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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