Who Poem by cheryl davis miller

Who are these many countless ones
tiny souls without number?
Those never rocked in loving arms
nor sheltered as they slumber.

Those coldly slaughtered in the midst
of the womb's most hallowed place.
Before light ever had a chance
to shine softly on their face.

Who calmed their little infant hearts
and displaced all of their fears?
Who comforted their anguished cries
dried away their sea of tears?

Who picked them up and gave to them
of His own eternal peace?
Who made a place for each of them,
one where life will never cease?

Who weeps for them AND for all those
who callously harm them too?
I'll tell you, friend: Our Precious Lord.
Do these facts surprise you?

c.d.m. 8-31-10