Stillborn Poem by Patti Masterman
Stillborn
Perhaps our sorrow comes from things
That died, as we our choices made;
A ghost of something never born,
A story stopped from existing.
A breath of something never seen,
That slips close by, unnoticed;
And shadows moving, in our dreams
That keep with us no closeness.
Dead children there, that never breathed,
Nor wore the flesh, as we do-
Ideas stillborn, like their lives;
Unformed and mute- no freshness.
For we can only go one way,
While others stay untested-
And seldom change step, where our feet
Must walk now- unless wrested.
That would have left me unborn which would have been ALRIGHT with me. I do not feel life is sacred, especially if an 'unborn', stillborn, aborted, or never-begun ife makes life 'better' for a potential parent. bri ;)
One of my mom's kids was stillborn & 5 'successful' pregnancies followed though she had wished to stop sooner with just 3 kids.
I came to this poem, this topic, unwittingly, by a rather strange pathway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 8:13:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Patti, your poem was a bit unclear for me to understand your intent. I sometimes feel I don't want life & should have had some say about me being born. : ) bri