The Unborn

Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
Like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.

Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing
In some antechamber - servants, half-
Listening for the bell.

Sometimes I see them lying like love letters
In the Dead Letter Office

And sometimes, like tonight, by some black
Second sight I can feel just one of them
Standing on the edge of a cliff by the sea
In the dark, stretching its arms out
Desperately to me.

by Sharon Olds

Other poems of OLDS (34)

Comments (30)

The way you crated the poem is amazing.It conjures the image in one's mind
i love this poem....feel I've been there with the same feeling And sometimes, like tonight, by some black Second sight I can feel just one of them Standing on the edge of a cliff by the sea In the dark, stretching its arms out Desperately to me. .... and our arms seem too short.... to reach out to catch the hand held with hope... just a little too short..
Amazing poem. I love it and am adding it to my favorite poems list. Will read more of your poems, Sharon.
Its a wonderful poem. Its more wonderful to get a feeling about your heart, Sharon. A heart filled with compassion only can write poems like this. You did it. Thanks for sharing. Full marks!
The poem reminds me of those unfortunate societies where a girl child is not welcome, hence people resort to foeticide. This is a very poignant commentary on those unborn babies, unborn dreams, anything aborted before birth. Please accept my sincere thanks.
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