I am hers, she is mine

I am brought into warmth
-yet I cry
I awake to mystery
-answers await in time

My mother she cries
-so uncertain of me
and I would all but die
-just to make her want me

God has decided
-I am hers, she is mine
I don't understand why she killed me
-This mystery takes time

No one will ever know me
-Death in the womb, thirty-five days old
except my mother
-she was cold.

This poem was written after my own abortion in 1996.
Crystal Truitt

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