Unborn Child – A Reflection

This poem titled Unborn Child was authored by Akiane kramarik at age 8 in her book titled My Dream Is Bigger Than I – Memories of Tomorrow – Part Two Page 49.“You will need your own copy of this book to view the full text of this poem. I limit quotes for the purpose of discussion and to follow copyright guidelines that allows for limited quotes.”

This poem Unborn Child consists of four stanzas with three lines each with few words. The photograph I choose for this reflection is an ultrasound done on me in the month of October in 2007.  I was in the second trimester of pregnancy in the fourth month of pregnancy.  Horrible women and men but mostly horrible woman want women like us to believe that the child in our wombs are just blobs of tissue.    The child in our wombs are just aliens seeking to devour and destroy our futures and that we as women have the right to choose life or death for our own unborn children.  When you look at the photograph I choose yes it appears to be a blob but when you look closer my boy appeared to be sucking his thumb and smiling which really warmed my heart as his mother that day because that day I was feeling anxious and wanted to be sure my growing child was doing ok… Unborn babies do flips and can be very active in their mother’s wombs.  Even the scriptures found in Luke confirms this.  I quote sacred scriptures here:  Luke Chapter One Verse Forty Four in Douay-Rheims Holy Bible “For behold as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.”  The first stanza opens with “For an unborn life once in a while we walk upside down”  This is so true in particular for the unborn child in the womb.  Many unborn children are upside down in the womb and they also do summersaults in the womb and move around a lot later on in the pregnancy.  The rest of the poem describes the womb as a wall with the words “A wall built just yesterday is already crumbled down”.  To me this describes the wall of the womb because when an unborn child is conceived that child must implant in the womb in order to grow.  If that child cannot implant then the child dies a brutal death washed out in it’s own blood.  Many mothers are not aware that contraception functions as an abortifacient and as such children are often conceived but cannot implant and are washed out in a miscarriage in their own blood.  These occur so early in the conception stage that the term miscarriage is missed altogether because the newly conceived child is so tiny at that stage.  So the wall of the womb is already hostile to billions of unborn children due to the use of contraception which means the new human life cannot implant to grow in their own mother’s wombs.  The poem ends with the words “Whenever you touch dew – remember the land”.    To me this asks those of us allowed to be born and grow up to remember that whenever we touch dew and remember the land of our ancestors that billions of children were not allowed to be born or allowed to learn how to walk and talk and as such billions of children never got a chance to walk on the land or touch the dew.  This is so sad and true.  Billions of children annihilated and destroyed on the altar of convenience.  I would agree that “Whenever I touch dew I will remember the land.”  I see a lot of dew in the mornings and will remember the land of my ancestors in a new light a new way now.  To me too the dew represents the frozen teardrops of the holy angels who shed holy tears over the annihilation of the unborn via the holocaust of abortion on demand.  These children had holy angels assigned to them from birth and these holy angels did not receive the joy of witnessing their happy births.  Instead these holy angels shed bitter tears over the frozen hearts of mankind.  The hardened hearts of those who wanted the abortions on demand.  No thought care or concern is given to the unborn child who suffers horribly and is murdered in cold blood via legal abortion on demand.  So to me the morning dew on winter mornings in particular represents the frozen tears of the holy angels who shed holy tears for the annihilated nations.  Let the frozen dew be unto us a representation of frozen tears shed by the holy angels over the hardness of the hearts of many today.  For it is fair to say that the children are no more and neither I nor heaven shall be comforted.  The holy angels assigned to the aborted innocent children shall not be comforted either. As a thank you for reading this reflection on Akiane Kramarik’s poem titled Unborn Child….Enjoy my playlist titled A Tribute To The Unborn Boys and Girls….

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