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from Love Has No Graveyard - 24 Pro-Life Poems
by William Hamnet Wall - Poems by William Wall
POEMS: (see below) Dreams In Mossy Harbors -- Because I am Helpless--
The Unborn Speaks -- Those Unborn Are Pregnant Too -- The Eulogy of Love
Part IV - Conscience Speaks to Mother
Dreams In Mossy Harbors
When labor pains of oceans come, her water breaks,
Fallopian streams brood their fertile eggs,
Abort no spawning dreams in mossy harbors,
Exile no writhing fish on alien shores
Till gasping gills asphyxiate on breath.
The stars are nurseries to mortal flesh
Cannot reverse their orbits of conception,
Nor cut heaven's chord from their trajectories,
Make stillborn her stardust coursing through our veins:
Our blood revolving round imploding joy.
Death cannot bury what has no earthly grave,
Nor turn to dust which has no mortal kin.
Stone deaf to squealing dirges of lament,
Life gulps down death, capers in tombs,
With soil makes mute the mourning lips of ruin.
How shall a womb expunge nativity,
Or purge desires embedded in the stars,
Denude buds weaved into sky’s vaulted lattice
When pruning shears cannot reach stem or blossoms,
Uproot a single origin from its paradise?
December 2017 - William Hamnet Wall
Part I - Unborn Child Speaks to Mother:
Because I Am Helpless
Because I am helpless, does not make me worthless.
Because I have no voice, does not strike me mute,
For conscience has a thousand howling mouths
That will the sentence of my death commute.
Mother, whomever you lay waste by choice,
Transcends that mortal loss, survives their tomb,
For God allows those innocent to sing
Beyond the wars of flesh or brutal womb.
Love has no graveyard, death no soil, nor stone.
Despair not, dear Mother, heaven’s grace will heal:
I’ll sing sweet hymns to father and for you,
And at the altar of forgiveness, kneel.
Love has a womb, by giving birth forgives,
You cannot take from God what to me He gives.
August 2015 - William Hamnet Wall
Part I - Unborn Child Speaks To Mother:
The Unborn Speaks
Before my mouth was flesh, I sang
A lullaby to you,
That what’s unseen you might adore,
Give birth with joy not rue.
Your conscience was my only womb
Before I lived or died;
I suckled first upon your love
Before I laughed or cried.
Make not your womb a Roman cross,
Your babe within a Christ,
Nor kill what’s innocent with thorns,
By thirty coins enticed.
All things which slaughter innocence
Become those silver coins,
To tempt a bargain for your joys
That from your soul purloins.
Were Christ inside, instead of me,
Would killing give you pause a while?
By loving me, you’ll save His child,
And so the death of soul beguile.
Treat even those "the least among us",
As though dear God your guest,
Then conscience can give birth
To joy and to eternal rest.
By William Hamnet Wall
