She was born sick.
Flaws embedded in her soul.
A fragile child they called.
Her mother cradled her weak body.
Children are born pure.
But all she knew was pain, hurt, and ache.
“She can’t withstand such agony.”
“She was meant to be returned to god early.”
But a mother’s love is eternal,
She had her alive inside the womb for 9 months.
What’s life more vulnerable?
She had god’s mercy by her side.
She held her alive,
As the world awaited her death.
Did she believe in miracles?
She cuddled her.
As the child cried.
Trying to absorb her pain in herself.
Trying to cleanse her heart and soul,
of the demons she was cursed with.
The universe had been cruel.
They took the child in,
And they cut her open.
They let her wounds shed blood.
Wounds embedded in her soul.
She was only a child.
Her tears blossomed a flower inside her.
That was craved by the universe,
trying harder and harder every second to take her back.
And her roots were wretched and wretched,
with the demons of the black.
But a flower is still a flower.
And a child’s heart is still fragile and pure.
Her agony might as well were her roots.
The demons of the world prospered.
And the child was thrown into the venomous hands of the worldly evils.
She wasn’t recovered.
She wasn’t healthy.
She had been cut open.
And sewn back.
But the universe’s heart still ached,
She still craved that child’s pure heart.
And her impatient frustration tried to reach for the flower again.
So the child cried again.
For her stomach ached like not a flower embedded in evils.
But a euphoria of the universe’s bloom rooted into the world’s deepest fears.
So they cut her open again.
And this time the mother couldn’t cradle her baby.
For what’s the womb?
What is childbirth in front of such an ache?
A baby being cut open from the same wound,
to let the screams echo once more from where they were locked?
But the universe knows mercy.
While the whole world asked the child to hold on the pain and survive,
The mother universe let her pain go.
She gave her flower up.
And its petals wilted into ashes.
So when they sewed her again.
The child stopped crying.
Not because she was separated from her reality,
Not because she was now cuddled by the demons of an unknown world,
she couldn’t reside in,
a world she can’t reside in.
Not because the screams were once more locked inside her.
But because now when her mother held her,
She felt her heart beat,
She felt her soul and aura surround an aroma.
She felt her child against her chest,
A miracle more special than the all the miracles of the universe.
For no one knew,
the universe itself resided inside her.
She wasn’t a miracle,
She was a destiny.
A fate meant to happen to the universe.
Now she’s grown up.
And she stares in the mirror.
Wondering if everyone had the sewn marks like her belly had?
Poor child thought the demons.
And the universe was deprived of the sight.
She could never know,
She was so much more,
than a child who almost died,
than a child cut open twice in a single day,
so much more than a miracle,
than a unique soul blessed to the world.
She was so much more than a child meant to die.
She was the universe’s blossom,
Which she gave up for more flowers to bloom,
in the wretched wretched world we all reside in.
About this poem
The poem narrates a story of a baby born with sickness eating her alive. Who just in span of 24 hours shunned death twice. How she lives and breathes oblivious to the fact that the universe itself resided in her.
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"A child meant to die" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 22 Oct. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/107013/a-child-meant-to-die>.