hush little baby

I imagine she was a rather quiet baby
kind of baby that never howled or yelled
even in this infant state, survival dependent on silence.

Patient, on hold, paralyzed
holy wailing on the inside
a dirty rashed tushy
where a dimpled bum should've been.

Serene, too pleasant gaze
no cooing and joyful flailing
where vivid affectation could glean.

Not this baby
It lies
waiting
until it hears no more discord.

the burn of mothers reluctant, teary eyed heart finally available
but still taking
needing
the warm little body to comfort her.

And it's sad
because the mother's mothers tears stain the trail of a future
with generations of fears heard by babes
not mothers.