New poem: Abortion I
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Abortion I
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2023-04-11
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***
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I went my entire education
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without being handed a box
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with plastic fetuses in row,
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each one with more time to grow
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before being aborted
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and potential life snuffed out,
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deemed nobody's loss.
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Now I know the lesson was fake,
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that far more time it takes
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to grow to that kind of size,
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that at that early of a stage
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it's dubious they feel that pain.
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(You have no right
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to force me to provide
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for you with my body against my will.)
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Barely aware of being alive,
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much less the difference
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between the light
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of consciousness
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and the dark that came before.
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A lima bean Dad did abort.
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Buried it with his two hands.
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With two hands, the dirt he ferried
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from backyard, wiped on his pants,
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powder, mud, dust, root, clump.
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"Your time in the womb is up.
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A promise that come a decade
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I so hastily made
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not thinking of the future
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I must now with no regrets break.
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Dissolved the ties with pop of pill
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so that no blood must my hands spill.
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The damage to you is only collateral.
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The benefits are all addressed to me."
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Bury my heart
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in the backyard,
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leave it behind
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in the move to different sky.
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It still beats.
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It still beats.
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It still beats.
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It still beats, Dad, did you know?
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Far away where my feet
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no longer legally can go.
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I was so young, only sixteen,
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at the start of my journey,
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without warning come
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to an ending abrupt.
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The story that is written
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without thought
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of plot
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or pacing
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and only one character half-fleshed out, you her effacing.
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I can only wonder
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into what I would have grown
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if this hadn't happened,
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if you'd just left me alone.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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