Monday, February 16, 2015
As good as barren, when again no baby?
When pregnancy arrives, but blighted ovum erupts in red waterfalls.
Tissues of life, containing nobody.
Hope and happiness, birthing emptiness two minutes apart.
Reaching down below, deep into the heart of the womb,
below the exit where all comes to light,
Rivers of blood shed out from the depths.
Then anger, and grief, and fighting between,
like a symbol of the death of something that never was,
the reality hit...
it kicked in the windshield that held it captive
behind the hands that held it in place,
packed behind shadowed allusions,
and painted words dark and gruesome,
unforgiving, and hard.
No baby, no sanity, no chances.
So the slap of life was never to ring true,
and the abuse of the words 'no baby' would be to worsen
possibly forever... because of everything.
Even a list of 15 sorries could never fix this.
No guilt or shame, just no baby.
"I only did it for you"
lies hiding the pain.
Just no baby came,
and no baby will ever arrive.
What was a hope and a wish for over a year,
with the baby,
the baby that never was...
the little one who would never be held,
and never will breathe or say I love you,
without a change of heart,
a new heart, and mind, and body.
No baby then, no baby now.
As for the future... the only baby
that could be real, will be what business,
or nothing at all.
No baby will ever know that it never existed...
and may never become real again.
No baby will ever feel it's parents' arms,
or to learn and grow and play.
No baby was.
No baby is.
It is deemed so, therefore...
No baby ever.