At one time
she carried youth and promise
around in her uterus
but she was too scared
to tell Momma, too scared
that Momma might tell Papa
and too scared that Papa might kill baby
these are legitimate fears
but they leave guilt in their wake
Baby was born still
to this day, she will speak of how beautiful
she was, she will speak of regrets
for there are many, one having attempted abortion
another, not going to get check-ups
the list goes on and on, as with most guilt trips
we send our selves on, extended vacations in hell
and now she feels as if the recent miscarriage
coupled with the first loss she suffered
are Gods punishments, and I want to say:
'No love that can't be, ' and 'God would never
give you this much pain, without reason'
But I know she's heard this all before
I know she is hurting still
this kind of pain lasts,
much longer than the stinging of tattoos
this kind of pain, I can't imagine
there's nothing, I can say to ease it
There's nothing we can say to each other
So she and I don't play with Barbies anymore
she plays with Ken, hoping he can ease her pain
and I play with myself, hoping that one day HE, God, will
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem