Every birthday,
reminds me of
those unborn!
Sucked by syringes,
pulverized by metal fists,
eliminated by local midwives,
doctors turned butchers...
Jesus! It is
a silent torment like yours!
Dear,
imagine the plight of the one
who survived among
those millions
that traversed to your
delicate womb!
If you are so adamant,
let's abort our love,
not our child!
My grandma used to say:
the finest moment
in a woman's life:
the moment she knows that
she has conceived!
You find it the hardest,
I fail to understand!
O Mother, *
I stand with you:
every abortion is a
silent murder...
Worse than suicide...
Killing a helpless soul...
Dear,
we came alone
and we leave alone…
At least let him or her be with us
To fill our hearts with
those flowers unseen,
melodies unheard,
divine smiles and
lovely laughter!
21.01.98
*Mother Teresa
premji premji
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/125-untitled-like-them/
