The Quarrel And the Child Poem by Natasa To

The Quarrel and the Child

The room was burning with their rage,
Their voices struck like blows;
A bitter word, a slammed-shut door,
And anger overflowed.

"You never hear! " one shouted loud.
"You never understand! "
Their trembling fingers pointed hard,
Their fists were tightly clenched.

The silence cracked with cruel replies,
Like thunder in the night;
Old wounds were dragged from years gone by,
And neither yielded right.

Then suddenly—a tiny cry
Rose softly through the air.
The anger froze upon their lips;
They stopped and turned to stare.

A newborn child lay small and warm,
With helpless, searching eyes.
And all the fury seemed so weak
Beneath those newborn cries.

They looked at one another then,
Their anger fading slow;
For in that child they saw a love
They could not let go.

The quarrel died before the dawn,
The wounded hearts grew still;
And in the arms of both parents
Hope found its way again.