"Precious" ©2009
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Mirage
by Betty Baker Bailey Deep in my heart there is an ache That cuts clear to the bone. It comes from hearing children cry While dying all alone. I cannot stop the tears that flow. Nor soothe my wounded heart. I feel the loss of every one Gone missing since the start. They'll never run or skip or jump. They'll never see the sea. They just fill up the city dump And bring me to my knees. These lives that some consider not To me are treasures lost. For who can know what one is worth When in the can 'tis tossed. 
Oh, how I long to hold each one In motherly embrace; To gently nurture and caress; What some consider waste. Some have said this makes me mean - To want the children saved. I ask them to discern between The caring and depraved. For those who have the bloody hand That does the deadly deed, They are the ones who strike the blow Based purely upon greed. It is not wrong to love the child Nor for its life to plead. But wrong it is to take such lives And on their deaths to feed.
To speak, perchance to reach a heart Bent upon destruction Is such a noble, worthy cause As to deserve sanction. Yet, lies abound 'bout what we do; How deeply goes our wound. For if the truth was ever out Their profit would be doomed. The little ones within the womb Are pawns amidst their game, Of pow'r and wealth and deadly "health"; Of ghoulish, fiendish fame.
This poem was written in answer to the current administration's outrageous allegation that Pro-Life witnesses are terrorists. It is my sincere hope that, though obviously exceedingly Pro-Abort, this administration will appreciate the difference between those who actually kill thousands and those who only want to stop the bloodshed. |