We live and laugh as if we will not live for long
Although we live forever in the nightmares of
Our innocent mothers, as mistakes, as abominations
And regrets. They love us wholeheartedly even without another half
They hide us and shush the gossip, and we wish we could
Talk from the cradle like Jesus and plead our mother’s cases.
But we know that we are voiceless in our shame, we live with
The guilt of a man who brags of his love yet supports not
The product of such. Men who love too much, men who
Cannot control their love, men who sing on stars and expensive suits
With expensive flowers and gold trinkets until.
Until we wreck it all.
Abortion would have been more beautiful than a life without a Name
Where we are condemned to cower to society’s comfort, in Shadows.
Whispered words, uttered with ferocity
Incantations of hope and despair, remorsefully
Searching, beckoning that universal Force:
Help him, save him, simply with the certainty
That its Wisdom may do either, may do neither
Memories rush by like colliding trains
Of when we worked in the tuckshop and he gave me candy
Of how I raced gleefully, when I learnt three times three
Memories are one of our greatest blessings; be careful who
You choose to share them with. He chose to share them
With those who would cherish them the most, even a decade
And a half later, at an age where heroes reign and live forever.
The most beautiful love story ever told I will tell one day
That began thousands of years ago in a stereotypical land, far away
This was before lands were grown or rivalries sown,
When souls roamed the world free, remembering all they’ve ever known
Without realising it
I woke up to the surprise
That your prints had grooved,
Ebbed, wallowed into my perception;
And I shall never walk alone.
