Her earthquake hands kept on without control,
as she was told the unrelenting news.
she could not speak, only eject her soul,
upon the hospice floor and pair of shoes.
Her knuckles raw, she pushed against her gut,
the fire tears scarred stripes across her cheek,
she cried for all the doors that would be shut,
and doors that she’d been given chance to peek.
Her tears now gone she sat up in her bed.
The fire passed, she held her belly tight.
And even though the boy inside was dead,
She would pretend for only one more night.
So holding womb, attempting not to cry,
she softly sang him his first lullaby.