Post-Trauma

Somewhere a woman is screaming,
clinging to a bundle of blankets -
fumbling with the fraying fabric ...
Inside, her baby, blue as bruising -
not breathing, heart stopped beating.
They're tearing it from her -
she's wailing, weeping.
They tell her it’s over -
but she won't listen.
She’s clutching at straws,
gripping the tiny form.
I feel her fear.

That's when I wake, cradling my bedsheets.
The pillows dripping with tears.