The Park

The new park holds light like the silence

of the unborn child.

My mother shows me recently planted trees,

new lights and paths.

It's winter and this silence

reminds me of the unborn child.

My mother walks behind me

while I kick and roll a dirty ball of snow.

Snow falls in heavy bites and its silence

reminds me of the unborn child.

My mother is crossing the hill, I shout that I love her,

in a minute I shout the same words again.

The city underneath and its blind silence

reminds me of the unborn child.