a poetic account of the unbaptised stillborn babies in unmarked graves scattered all around Ireland
Hear that hammer hitting, nailing down your sorrow,
your still born baby silent, your heavy heart unhallowed,
motherhood murdered, O cruel, poisoned arrow.
O un-baptised baby with such indifferent eyes,
such plaintive questions, kissed tenderly goodbye;
creation heaves, your heavenly Father cries.
Guardian angels quietly watch and deeply weep,
secret graves stubborn spades dig deep,
keening midnight mothers refuse to sleep.
Accursed limbo lies! sad Cillini plots moan,
parental pain observed by silent sentinel stones,
sand pitifully exposes scattered baby bones….
Countless empty arms, countless aching wombs –
there’s no human hope to fill such a vacuum,
stillborn babies wait beyond this hopeless gloom.
Not ‘unknown souls’, as clergy wrongly claimed,
all your hairs are numbered, you are newly named,
loved by the heavenly Father, freed from such shame.