(Image source: livingindryden.org)
He watches the woman he loves yell in pain; legs spread, eyes
wide, fists clenched. Her moans are those of a tormented soul. He’s moved but there’s nothing he can
do. One night in bed, nine months of swell, one moment of hell, to bring joy or
tears.
His maker wants to bless, so he’s rewarded a babe. The cry fills the air and they all
jubilate. But one good deed has brought one bad thing. The bearer of the load,
her baby, she can’t behold. Lifeless she lays, bleeding away.
He cannot believe it! Right before his eyes, they spread the
white sheet. A hand rests on his
shoulder: “I’m sorry, we couldn’t save her.” Maybe the white coated bloke was
just making a joke. But it’s all
real and he feels the hit. He falls on his knees and blames the supreme.
She was a good woman. She
was a rare human. They had walked down the aisle two years behind. They had
made love vows and exchanged their bands. Now, she’s sailed a brute route on
the harvest of their first fruit. All that was left; a gift they could have
shared. “Sir, she’s so beautiful. Come on, hold her!” there’s moisture in his
eyes as he receives the tiny life. One loss, one gain, life couldn’t be fair.
He feels light flicker in his soul. He will call her Lantern. He would lay
down his life for hers. He would love her with all his might. She has illuminated his heart. “Let’s
go home, Lantern.”
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