Miquie

This poem is dedicated to my baby - Miquie

Miquie once was alive
He was born but he died
He died right after birth
And there he lied.

He lied so peacefully
And did not make a move,
But he meant so much
To the mother, he proved;

Life is so vital and so real
That you must take every moment
As if it was the last
Before you are dead, in the next moment.

Miquie is so real
In the mother's heart.
That it is hard
For the heart to separate.

It is so hard to separate
The past for the present,
That Miquie's birth
Feels like it is at this moment.

Miquie will never leave the mother's mind
Even if the mother did try;
But if she did,
The mother would only cry.

If Miquie was alive
He would be six years old
And he would think
His mother is OLD.

But the mother is only nineteen
And would not bear the thought
Of having to care for a six year old.
In fact, she is shivering at the thought.

The thought of a thirteen year old
Taking care of a newborn
Is even more unsettling
Especially if the baby is the mother's own.

Miquie once was alive,
He was born but he died.

November 1997

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