Some Little Thoughts

There was a hollow sound
That broke the silence of the morn
And sent icy tremors
Through those who stood to view
The departure of
A babe newborn. 

The dirt that hit the wooden box
Caused waves of grief to flood the morn,
To break the silence of the mist,
To bring torment to most who watched
The burial of
A babe newborn. 

The mother’s quiet sobs echoed through the trees,
Disturbing the fabric of the morn,
Like a fungus did her anguish spread,
Leaving its mark on the assembled lot,
Which came to view the passing of
A babe newborn. 

The father stood in silence
In the hollow cold of morn,
He didn’t shed a tear,
But gazed upon that little box
That contained
His babe newborn. 

One could not help but be moved
By this sad sight on that cold morn;
To watch the final rites
To bid farewell to that little life
Which had never seen real joy:
That babe newborn. 

I watched the mourners as they stood
As if rooted on that terrible morn;
No one moved from his allotted space,
But listened to the priest
Who preached of God’s grace
For the babe newborn. 

The greatest thing there is in life
Can be lost in the space of a morn,
As was evident at this funeral
Of those who had lost the most,
Tearing at one’s inner heart:
The loss of a babe newborn.