Birthday: A Poem for Those Who Never Had One

It’s my birthday today.
33 years ago, my mother chose
Not so for
One million, three hundred
seventy-one thousand,
two hundred eighty-five
Others that year.

I made it
From clump of cells
to person.
That [fabricated] line of
“You’re nothing” to
“You matter”.
They didn’t.

I grieve for
Wombs turned tombs.
I hope in the one
Who went in to both
To offer life to
Murderers and murdered

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: