Mesmerized
by the come and go,
the sad drift and flow
of lives in painful transition
I sat, waiting for an ending.
The clinic was gated,
walled and secure,
but nothing felt safe
nothing felt sane.
Why do they make you
wait so long, trembling
in the shadow of
fear and remorse?
I wept, as my sisters
wept at what might
have been, had we turned
in another direction.
And then, midst waves of
heartache, I felt a flutter
in my belly, no more than the
whisper of an eyelash.
Later, my doctor and my
mom would tell me it
was much too early
to feel a fetus move.
Whatever it was, maybe gas,
maybe God, I took it as
a plea from the life growing
viable inside me.
I would not abort my baby.
Nor give it away. I
would carry it proudly, and when
it entered this world,
I would be the perfect mother.
I could only hope
it wasn't Bree, materializing
inside of me.
