Tomorrows my birthday and sadly I don’t know yours I often wondered what happened to my little dears Those two who were called, “fetal tissues,” not lives And in ignorance succumbed to the abortionist knife Were you placed in a burial ground or burned? Were you put in the evening trash? Or could you Have gone to a tissue bank, sold for big bucks Without my knowing much. And that was Forty years ago, and the excitement of Women’s rights were celebrated, but you My darlings, how sad I’ve become reflecting Thinking of who you were and where you are And I named you and gave you thoughts and gifts One a poet songwriter coming from my genes The other a pilot like his fathers dreams And at Christmas, I set a place for you In my heart, you’ll always be And one is John and the other David Oh perhaps you were Lillie or Sarah But, I’ll never know you in this life Please forgive my careless insights For I followed the news of freedom for women But regretfully never thought for myself nor Thought of your lives at all, until forty years Past your deaths and my mistake… May God bless you in heaven And please forgive my ignorance
*** My poem was prompted because Bill Maher said callous jokes on TV last night about fetal tissues. I haven’t stopped crying. If I could hate or curse him I would, but instead, will stand up for the unborn. My poem:
Some have come to steal our flowers, the secrets of the herbs How brave are the humans who come to our gardens, And walking on wee flowers and picking those with their selfishly desires Never asking if they can, and tumbling over the heavy placed towers The statues of cement that line the wooden fence, secrets held swollen so tightly Grabbing at the weeds and tossing them over the fence, as if, one can, indeed Who gave you permission, you’re not a friend, but ~ GURRRR, instead! Perhaps a foe, are you? For boundaries crossed in lovely quiet spaces Where the lines are etched deeply in sand, and you who cross despite the rejections. Dare you not know the inner chambers, nor the thoughts, that birth each moment And why do you assume, because being a woman That you may make foolish assumptions And graze within my garden so soon?