By Enoch Black
They call me in to convince her to let go,
She holds her baby who has no moral glow.
She looks at me with tears in her eyes,
She explains she can’t let go even though she knows it’s not wise.
I can only nod with breath so slow,
Finally, I tell her to hold on, because I can’t understand, can’t know.
She asks me if I want to hold her too,
I say yes and take her in my arms, this pain so new.
Eventually, I hand her back to her mother,
And tell her to take her time, it’s no bother.
I walk home in the dark of night,
Later I sit sensing this loss of a child, that horrible plight.
The memory reminds me to hold my own children so tight.
It reminds me how fragile is this moment, this love, this light.