Why, Mother, Why

In the wilderness of night
A chill invades my soul with fright.
As yet, unborn, I gasp for breath
To scream. I sense impending death!
I'd give my life for you, you know
And with your help my love would grow.
Why, Mother? Why? What have I done?
Am I not meant to be your son?

To make my plea, I have no voice,
So Mom, it's you who makes the choice.
Why must I die to suit your need?
My life is still a Godly deed.
Who speaks for me in man-made laws
Which serve to justify your cause?
Why, Mother? Why? What have I done,
That you destroy your unborn son?

No grave to mark my place of rest.
No date of birth to show I'm blest.
No hugs of joy to share with you.
No chance to prove the things I'd do.
I'd make you proud if I could be
The son whose life God placed in me.
Why, Mother? Why? What have I done,
That you abort your loving son?

by Bob Day

Other poems of BOB DAY (1)

Comments (1)

Bravo! Well said! Bob