This little life

This little life

of flesh in flesh

and body in body

was located

and felt

as part of her

and not part of her.


Its tiny life of formation

and its reaching to consciousness

were nestled in expectation

and embraced

by what it would bring

and the joy

it would add.


But now,

without the comfort of cause,

this fragment of life

has stopped its path,

has only an end

in the steel tray of termination,

and what is left

is but the cold

and deathly

drip of loss

and the unresolved question

of what it might

have been

if flesh was still in flesh

and body grew fully to

the greeting of birth.