flipping through blank pages, sitting

on a cushioned couch near wood-splintered window pane

flakes falling from the sky

outside on an untouched ground

as I turn with unkempt nails

white sheet past white sheet

seeing the future


the leaf’s path before it falls

after a promise is spoken

but before the words are said


pen springs to life

thoughts want to be given a voice

but silent emotions deserve it more.

before the words are written

they exist between the worlds


in the dark womb of my memory

floating in the creative juices

of fluid conscious thought

eventually, i will give birth

with every graze of pen on page

their existence comes out

cursive twists and curls, crying


these thoughts are each unique

but who will validate them?

afraid to bring into this world

thoughts that none will hear.

they have yet to cry

have yet to take a step


beautiful one 

to do so means looking back

on deeds undone

on life ungiven


in the womb of memory


let the coming year bring forth

every good deed from the dark

give birth to every act which now exists

as only thought

bring thought and word

and sacred unborn cry

into the world

give them their own voice


beautiful children

you deserve your own voices

the sound of future years

unfolding and cycling back

on generations eternally


but as for now

the clock strikes midnight

may they take breath.



This poem is dedicated to the New Year before us

and the lives of all the unborn children who will not survive to see it.

Heavenly Father, bless their souls and ours and to God be the glory.  

Ad Jesum per Mariam,


- AB