Cut Long Ago, by Gerald McConkey  

The dew was heavy in that ancient place,
The sole sound, grey seals keening.
I heard the news of long ago,
From the black slate, gently weeping.

A stone for a boy that never breathed,
A wound beyond all healing.
Blank ghost of a child ill-conceived,
Silent, still, and screaming.

Copyright © 2009 asserted by Gerald McConkey

A second McConkey poem can be found here World Away