A poem for innocence lost

My life has ended before its begun, my soul lost before its misplaced.
No one weeps, or sheds a tear or mourns my loss as time has ended before its begun.
No name, no mom, no stone, no plot, marks my brief passing through God’s world.
But if God wills, when time is up for all, I will greet thee at heaven’s gate to tell you how I would have loved you
and love you still though my passing caused no grief, my existence never made its mark.
I cry for what might have been, had love been ruler, king, and law.
Oh mom, how I wish you’d hold my hand and wipe my tears and let me suckle at your breast, and rest my head against that same breast
to feel the love of God’s own touch resting on my mother’s chest
and let me know the love of God’s own mom so many years ago.

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