A Cry From The Gate Poem by Charles Jagongo

A belly, heaving, a body that shivered in cold
A cry so distant, piecing hearts gone cold
Its head, veins ran like ropes, tying fire wood

An alarm it raised, a siren it blew
A mother, cold hearted, a mother who knew
The initial journey, when it started out of blue.

A life, brought, to a world, his dreams knew not
Instinctual desires, comprehension, not
Reflex for survival, steamed, energized, death, here, not

A nun, a Virgin Mary, had never experienced child making
A cry from the gate, pieced her heart, in sanctity, reached, and carrying
The baby, in her armpits, forehead kissed, a new window opening.