To my unborn child:
Sam’s a dream. No, he’s not.
He’s the child I once forgot.
Girl or boy I never knew –
You were suctioned by a crew.
Never felt any cuddles from you;
But then, what could I do?
‘Twas a virgin at seventeen
When lovemaking was still a sin.
Starlight struck, ain’t struggle to forget
Running from home, no time for regret:
Alive, alive to be simply Me,
Naive, young and damn carefree.
When you’re young, life’s a stage.
When you’re old, there’s only closed baggage.
Once before, the road was endless.
Now no more, every trail ends in a mess.
Then my heart was etched in stone.
Now I’m rheumatic and all alone.
Bastard boyfriends in the junkyard
Hurled henceforth with all wild cards.
So I mourn as only mothers can
For those seeds that never got to be men …
Stinking melody, this dull heartache
That comes with each daybreak.
Gray in years, awash with fears …
Sam, my dear, would you care to love
A broken broad chasing Him above?
There’s no choice, I hear your voice –
Come, my baby, let’s go back to Troy!
Sam, my child, will you forgive
An aged grizzly torn by grief?
Tell me, please, it’s not too late;
Meet me now at heaven’s gate.
Note: The writing prompt for Day 5 is to write about fog using a metaphor and the elegiac format.
Update: Serendipity or not? The Secret Shame of Abortion in the Church is a Christianity Today article on the dilemma faced by Christians who have had an abortion and who lived to regret it.