The Stillbirth

I wiped the sweat off my brows
As once more i called for a push
The battle was fierce
The pain immense
Brows knotted together
My hands worked their magic
It was but a glimpse
And all i needed to scream
Mr. Time affirmed a quarter past midnight
A journey i began at the fall of dusk
Glazed with pain from her task
Arms outstretched for her child
Her joy, i could smell from afar
Without warning
The lights dimmed and then gave out
I felt a pang of pain
Lying on my arms
Was her child
...Her stillborn.

poem by Anthony Ominiabohs
Added by Poetry Lover
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