A Baby Cries

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A poet’s look into life after death.

A baby cries

for the very first time.

A smile, a laugh,

tiny feet running.

“It’s time to come in now,”

a stern voice calls.

Soft arms encircle,

“I love you.”

Time passes, more

smiles, and laughs.

“I love you” becomes

“I miss you.”

You were always there but

- wait, what is that smell?

It hurts to breathe,

and then: nothing.

A smile, a laugh,

that voice, “What happened?”

“You died.” A flash of

light, “Come with me.”

Slowly, feet follow

into the light.

A baby cries

for the very first time.