A Lullaby For The Stillborn Infant Who Sleeps In A Trash Bag Poem by nimal dunuhinga
A Lullaby For The Stillborn Infant Who Sleeps In A Trash Bag
Oh! What a sad circumstance is this?
I could have die in the war or could be blind forever.
I touched the baby girl's limbs and it's still warm.
Her poor mother has gone for milk or ran away.
And the unknown infectious father must be stuck in a brothel house?
Oh! My dear you haven't seen the precarious life in camouflage.
That's better as it's rather bitter to swallow.
Please do not open your small eyes my wingless bird
And sleep as much as you can.
'Please do not open your small eyes my wingless bird And sleep as much as you can.' These two lines encapsulate the tragic tale you share with such grace and tenderness. You have the poet's gift for finding the heart of your subject and allowing the reader to peep inside your soul. So sad. So sad. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/12/2024 8:13:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Superb write. Tears for the precious little girl and tears for her parents. She is with the angels now. But they are still lost. Warm regards, Sandra