When Old Children Cry

A child’s whimper goes unheard,
as shadows tarnish her innocence…

… and heaven never looked so dark
as it does right now
under the bright September sun,
when summer flows into autumn’s gold
and like feathered strokes of burning embers
spatter shades of amber across the sky,
and all I need’s a glimpse of a smile,
to stop for a while this old whimper inside,
and the chance to forgive and let go
right now, before winter comes.

But heaven never looked so dark
despite September’s endeavor to shine,
as it does this day,
as I look at you and foolishly… still hope…

…and the child cries in the dark,
her heart heavy with gloom…

…cause I’ve struggled to break through this darkness
from the day I came into the light,
our lives still entwined… your blood, my blood,
umbilical cord not yet severed,
and your mind wavered, away from me
when you gazed into my newborn eyes
and I wonder what was in them,
so hideous to your sight
that you should want to kill my essence,
that you should now look at baby tears
welling, still, in my old and tired eyes,
and ignore the supplication
of these empty infant arms stretching;
reaching to touch and be touched,
every time I look at you and foolishly… hope…

…and her wrinkled hand wipes infant tears
from her eyes…
so close to winter… she cries.

Carmen Ruggero © 2004