A Child Was Born

I had an unusual dream last night. I dreamed in fragments of a poem, but with no words. I'm not sure how to describe it, but it was like it was poetry. Each moment could be described in very few words.

I was in the Philippines. I was me as I am now and everyone else was, too. Patches of rusty and worn sheet metal shielded me from the near sun. One of my aunts was having a child. The air was light. It was a beautiful day. I could see the ground and the little stones smoothed over from rain and wear.  The ground had been recently hosed down with water. A woman came out and handed the child to me and rushed to take care of my aunt. Something wasn't right. I held the child in my arms. So beautiful and full of life. The child looked the other way. And in my arms, it returned to the earth.

That's pretty much it. The child died in my arms.