THE UNBIRTHED CHILD SPEAKS

The subject of Abortion is one that sparks much controversy, re; LIFE/CHOICE. Whatever your view, it is certain that you may want to justify it with plausible arguments.

For those leaning toward the LIFE stand, the position is that life begins at conception and that snuffing it out, could be tantamount to sacrilege and, or, murder. Some middle-liners may take the view that in specific instances, the cessation of that life is acceptable in rare circumstances like those in which the life of the mother is at stake, or the pregnancy is in the very initial stages. Those who stand on the CHOICE platform are vehement in the view that a woman has the right to choose what happens to her body, that the foetus is only a clump of undeveloped cells among others.

But what if that foetus, child, clump of cells were given the right to speak out and have a point of view. Just what would the words be like.

The following is an original piece that I wrote in the voice of that un-birthed child, echoing his/her affirmation of being A CHILD. They capture raw emotions and seem to question viewpoints. Whatever your views it cannot be denied those words, the words of the un-birthed child, are worth being heard.

I AM STILL YOUR CHILD; an un-birthed child Speaks.

 Hidden deep in the live recess of your liquid parts, protected, cushioned and emerging;

I am waiting. To complete my form, to meet my mom;

But I was broken into morsels, dissolved, erased, blanked out; because I did not to fit into your plan

BUT I AM STILL YOUR CHILD

Striving strong in the live recess of your liquid parts, covered, fed and completely whole;

I swim, waiting. To complete my term, to no longer be alone;

But I was suctioned out, hosed away, torn loose, removed; because I was not your or his choice

BUT I AM STILL YOUR CHILD

Conscious and awake in the live recess of your liquid parts, alert, aware and breathing;

I move around, waiting. To be part of your world, to be welcome into the fold;

But I was cruelly wrenched, bloodied, battered, discarded; because your body was more important than my life

BUT I AM STIL YOUR CHILD

So when you lay at night trying to sleep, and thoughts of me pop up from deep memory slots in your being, you toss and turn in vain to obliterate them;   Do remember that I AM STILL YOUR CHILD

As you laugh and joke around with your peers in that click, trying hard to fit in with those elite chicks and memories of my life jerk you into reality; Please remember that I AM STILL YOUR CHILD

Written by Rosemond Dinard-Gordon

June 26^th 2021