Wednesday, July 1, 2009

After reading an article in my hometown's newspaper, I felt led to write the following....depending, it either makes me furious, or causes me to weep, seeing how blind our generation chooses to be....

A beating heart,
a working brain,
moving hands and feet.
I was one.
You were one.
All pass through this stage.
And yet,
despite the point-blank facts,
who outgrew the womb,
now sit in the
highest judgment seat -
to someone else's life.
A "fetus"?
Is that how we excuse
tearing apart,
limb by limb,
a living, breathing, moving
For that is what
abortion does
to any
O, we great big children
of this old and ancient world,
do choose to act like spoiled infants;
we love the toy
of sex,
but only wile the "Fun" lasts.
The repercussions are too much;
a child
we cannot handle.
So throw the thing away!
Still use the toy,
but never dare
stoop and clean
our mess.
How can we sleep at night,
finally we realize,
that what we did,
had it been but short weeks later,
would be classified
as heartless tabloid murder?
A face...
staring up at me...
gazing happily at bright and brilliant colours...
A laugh...
Gurgles and giggles
and tiny plump toes;
All images
that forever will haunt me;
The images that might have been memories.
The toy
is not bad of itself,
but how we use it
determines its worth -
it's seeming
or "bad"ness.
Can we stand id'ly
while our world
stumbles along,
its own self apart?

Does wanting the sex
excuse the killing
of a
A being complete with

working brain

beating heart

and moving hands and feet.

by Corrie Morgan; 2009

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