Gift of Tears

Having been brought up with quite a few old fashioned British values, such as 'keeping a stiff upper lip' and 'men don't cry', I often find it hard to express emotions through tears.

Earlier today I read a post by John Smeaton, Director of SPUC, and was quite surprised to find myself 'welling up'. You can read John's full post here,: in it John describes how, following a public meeting in Preston at which he was invited to speak (concerning the recent opening of an abortion clinic in a local health centre), he was presented with an envelope containing a donation to SPUC, and a poem written on what appeared to be a page torn from a diary.

I reproduce the poem below.

Your first smile ... I will never see
Your first words ... I will never hear
My strong hands will never stretch out
To guide your unsteady steps
No whispered lullabies to a sleepy head

I will never wait at a school yard gate
Or watch with pride a nativity play
No school photographs on my mantelpiece
No first communion dress for me to buy

What would you have been like?
Pretty or plain? ... Clever or slow?
It doesn't matter ... You were mine.

When you died you were not tenderly laid in a snow-white coffin
No family or friends were gathered
To say goodbye
A man in a mask
Was your only companion
A plastic bucket
Was your resting place
Your only headstone
"Clinical Waste"

No-one remember you
But I do
No-one misses you

But I do.

One can only speculate on the story, and tragedy, that lead to this being written. I thank Our Lord for allowing me to weep a little for the those innocent children never given the chance. Maybe you can see why I am pro-life.