In memory of St. Thomas
To all aborted children
in the USA and the world

Children
of any root, state, grade
or degree of accomplishment
or state of development
or degree of perfection :

O Nata Lux

Every nascent light is pure,
white, holy and innocent
as the divine light
entering the eyes of a baby

- bright and overwhelming,
and a bit scary
at the moment of birth
in our hard world,

But... ways, nights, moons and times
before that painful passage,
before that descent into visibility
that wordly consideration by us
we, blessed grown-ups...

A same light, and a same stream,
an endless river of nurturing love and energy,
but dimmed, soft, gentle, silent,

kind and merciful as Gods bleeding heart,
piercing with no scar, violence, blood or wound
trough the pure or scared skin and flesh
of every caring or struggling mother
- straight into that sacred hiding place
and right into that first and ultimate refuge:
her womb

A peaceful and harmonious white beam
reaching out across walls and borders - from above

to warm, comfort and, later on,
gently guide every nascent angelic being
- creatures still fully in the image of God
- with yet no fault nor sin,

and as such, every time again, capable to become
a new redeemer for our sins,

and again the only reason for which
God 'does not count all sins' yet
- for who then shall stand?

Little and frail bodies,
with no words or loud voice,

with no power, force or strength
for their own defense,

but always endowed by God
with the full irrevocable promise
unremovable rights for a blessed future
of dignity, life and bliss

Called into being by love and union
often in spite of all woes, greed, violence, crimes,
above all pride, carelessness and indifference
in face of the mighty, the noisy and the ruling

Growing as a miracle for ever unsurpassed
knit as an unique masterpiece of Beauty
A gift and mystery to revere and adore

Alas !
Scores and multitudes, already having had
the luck to be, well-fed into tallness
But sadly, swamped into the ways of the world,
eating from the meat-pots of slavery,

Alas!
Still choosing to wade in darkness,
We all choose to those frail cries
- mute beings cut out and thrown
away - like dirt or garbage !

Angels with no force for evil
unjustly carved out of the book of Life:

Countless, but not numbered
torn apart, but never remembered
buried or burnt but without memorial
burnt to ashes, but no vase to hold them

Planned agonies of young plants
Sprouts, kittens, pups, chicks   
with a voice and echo, but unheard

visible to be loved, but unseen

kicking a bit to get out
straight into the arms of their mother
upon the shoulders of their father

Blessed the ones who have loved
without having seen love
Who shared and felt the pain
without seeing the wounds


Dimitri Arnauts
11th of May 2022