The Grave of Lost Babes
By Valerie Muriel Mckinley
Published: January 24, 2009
Updated: January 24, 2009

The air hung humid,
the sky overcast,
traffic droned on and on,
birds fluttered between
old serried headstones.

The sun slipped out between clouds,
lit a patch of grass freshly mown;
its pungent aroma added somehow
to the sense of raw emotion,
rising from somewhere deep
inside my subconscious self.

For forty two years it had lain,
trampled down by the strictures
imposed by ignorance and arrogance.

Leaves rustled in the slight breeze
that sprang from nowhere in particular.
Inside something loosened;
the dam burst and the years of
hurt and guilt rose
like bile in my throat.

Why had I not screamed at them?
‘She is mine!’
I should have fought to hold her in my arms;
no one had the right to take her from me,

Why did I let them put her in an anonymous grave?
A grave of lost babes…

Here at last
her resting place;
a good place.
My anger and guilt subsided,
my grief remained for a while
to be replaced by great peace.

Yes, this is a beautiful place.