Children...

In January 2003, a baby girl was abandoned by her mother hours after the birth. Somebody found the newborn baby and called 911. the baby was rushed to the hospital, and was treated. She was perfect, the way newborns usually are, and was eventually names Mira – short for Miracle. The whole city of Toronto considered her to be a miracle baby, and thus her name. She was later adopted by a couple. Her birth mother was found and she received treatment/therapy (unsure what exactly was wrong with her). This poem was a reaction to Mira’s wails for her mother and for all the other abandoned babies in Third World countries, who never stand a chance.

A child

To the eye that cannot see
A dark cloud on the far horizon
To the ear that cannot hear
The threatening rumble of summer rain

To the skin that prickles
With the premonition of something dangerous
To the hackles that raise
In response to the shiver of wariness

To the shudder that races through
The gloom of descending darkness
To the scream that pierces through
The scent of the suffocating blindness

To the howl from the baying hound
An echo to the arrival of doom
To the whinny of the frightened horses
A response to its blinding nearness

To the wind that wails
Through the leafless trees in the forest
To the cries of a motherless child
Hanging alone…in a basket…in the middle of nowhere

Born in world which can see, hear, sense and feel
Be it clouds, thunder, gloom or fear
A child alone, without its shelter
Impervious to everything but its cries for a mother.

By,
Angela Archana Vincent.