LABOUR (a working title)

i've been wrestling with thoughts and words, phrases and pictures in head....trying to wrap my head around the reality of dismembered children and the reality of it happening in jamaica, more than once, in quick succession......i know i have to write it down tell it, rant....but this birthing of distress is not yet fully dilated.....i wait, in labour, patiently, each contraction more painful than the last, and i wait, to give birth to this tightening in my chest, heaviness in my soul...i wait...i wait...will the words, poem, rant, come before the next child dies?