The cry of an aborted child

The following is  from Linen on the Hedgerow – if you have the opportunity to re-blog, please do so that it might receive as wide an audience as possible.

This poem came to light recently courtesy of my nephew who found it hidden among the usual family documents.It was written in 1969 by my late brother John who was a great influence on my own Catholic faith and whose example probably was the main guide to my own orthodoxy.John wrote the poem following a newspaper report (22nd May 1969) regarding an aborted baby crying out while on its way to the incinerator – a thought that is hard and abhorrent to contemplate.So, on the first day of the 40 Days for Life, on behalf of my nephew, Michael, I dedicate this to those attending vigils being held throughout the world.

Hear me O God.  Hear.
From the depths of my condemned cell I cry.
None will hear me but You because You see,
I have no vote.
I did not murder nor did I steal or wound.
Yet I am held here helpless before the sterile steel.
Or the poisoned needle.
A death too brutal for murderers is a death
reserved for me.
No comforting breast nor loving Mother’s arms await me.
My body will be given to be burned.
What have I done? I have not earned
this sordid unlamented end.
In sin was I conceived. Unwanted I die
before I shall be born.
O when the metal enters my brain,
when I shall kick my last convulsive agony,
take me, take me to Your arms.
None will console me, none cherish me.
None hear my last suffocated
shriek from the traitorous womb.
Save You, save only You.
O love me God.

John Francis Collins RIP

Please help this poem gain coverage in the hope that it may reach into the hearts of the politicians, doctors, nurses and others who are involved in this barbaric practice.


About Gertrude

Sáncte Míchael Archángele, defénde nos in proélio, cóntra nequítiam et insídias diáboli ésto præsídium.
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3 Responses to The cry of an aborted child

  1. it is wrong indeed may god have mercy on these acts


  2. shieldsheafson says:

    Our Lady visits hell, and the Archangel Michael leads her through the torments. She sees the sinners and their punishment. There she sees among others one noteworthy set of sinners in a burning lake; some of them sink to the bottom of the lake so that they can’t swim out, and ‘these God forgets’ — an expression of extraordinary depth and force. And so Our Lady, shocked and weeping, falls before the throne of God and begs for mercy for all in hell — for all she has seen there, indiscriminately. Her conversation with God is immensely interesting. She beseeches Him, she will not desist, and when God points to the hands and feet of her Son, nailed to the Cross, and asks, ‘How can I forgive His tormentors?’ she bids all the saints, all the martyrs, all the angels and archangels to fall down with her and pray for mercy on all without distinction. It ends by her winning from God a respite of suffering every year from Good Friday till Trinity Day, and the sinners at once raise a cry of thankfulness from hell, chanting, ‘Thou art just, O Lord, in this judgement.’ Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

    “I tell you solemnly, in so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me.” Matthew 25




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