- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Borne pain
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At six months the doctor said
The fetus though small is fine
At seven months, apologies,
The child you’re carrying is dead.
At eight months, induced labor
Would you like to see your son
Amid the grief, so great
You nodded no
Your heart removed
Your wailing soul
would not permit the sight
Out of body
Not out of mind
Out of the country
Bury it behind
Visit friends, family abroad
Tears, silence, soft embraces
Hopefully healing
Then my aunt’s pictures
Of her new grandchild
You died again
and again
with each photo
Damning indictment of life lost
Visit cut short,
back to England
back to emptiness
and each other
alone
no photos to show
no proof of our angel
labor’s pain for nought
except for pain itself
- COMMENTS
LeBrozabout 17 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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LeBrozover 17 years agoOverwhelming with emotion;
Not the sort of write any mother'd want to read,
Especially one who might have experienced similar pain.
Tathagataalmost 20 years agowho went through this.
It is horror.
Thank you for sharing this
and I am truly sorry for the pain and loss
