A Dream of Motherhood

I had a dream one dreadful night

I was a Mother to a beautiful baby

Of such very small size

I loved and adored that child

But the baby soon became sick

And then my baby died

I cried and I cried and I cried

I ran and screamed throughout the night:

‘Help! Help! My child has died!’

But the Doctors just shamefully shook their heads

‘There’s nothing anyone can do’, they said

‘Bury your child; there is no cure for Death

I went to the priests and their Holy Church

Awaiting the resurrection of the dead

I waited lifetimes for Christ, but he was never there

So at last I went elsewhere to search

I went to the Buddha, the Temple, and the Prophet too

With all of them my terrible loss was shared

I thought them all wise, and they had so very much to say

But, really; none of it mattered

My baby still rotted in their grave

At last I awoke from my dream, but still I cried

In the end, what difference does it make if there’s a god

If children still continue to die?