WRITE to LIFE – Through a looking Glass

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boy at window

 

The Lost Babies

 

The figure of two hundred thousand is spinning around in my head,

The number of unborn babies that in just a year will be dead

Within one quite small country, the UK, and that is all –

A huge and awful figure that should everyone here appal.

It’s really a terrible scandal that so many young lives have been lost,

And Britain some time in the future will have to start counting the cost,

For its people are growing much older, with fewer young adults to care

For those who got rid of the babies, the ones who should now be there.

Abortion has taken so many, who looking ahead would have cared

For  their elderly mothers and fathers, if only their lives had been spared,

 

Just a Lifestyle Choice

 

Both my parents were intelligent

And well educated,

As were all my grandparents

And great grandparents.

Doctors, scientists, professors,

Architects, writers, economists,

All abounded in my family.

My father went to Oxford

And gained a First.

Then he became an international lawyer,

With a huge multi-national firm,

Travelling the world,

Living a life that most people can only dream of.

He loved it.

My mother went to Cambridge

And also gained a First.

She’d gone into banking

And was a rising star,

Tipped to reach the top.

Vice President?

President?

Everything seemed within reach.

She worked terribly hard,

With long hours,,

And intense pressure.

But she was ambitious

And her job was her life.

The one evening she drank too much

Forget to take her pill

And I came into being.

At first she couldn’t believe it.

Babies weren’t included in the vision they had for the future.

They discussed me.

Endlessly.

And decided that there was no way I could come into their lives.

They’d just bought a new house,

Which cost the earth;

They’d booked next year’s safari holiday;

My mother was in line for a big promotion;

A baby would ruin her prospects;

My father didn’t feel he was ready for the responsibility of a child;

And anyway, he spent weeks at a time abroad;

They’d have to give up most of their social life;

No more exciting holidays all over the world;

They had lots of plans for the future,

But none of them included me.

So I would have to go.

Perhaps I would have grown up to become a doctor

And discover a cure for cancer,

Perhaps I would have become a famous musician,

Or the inventor of a product that would improve many people’s lives,

A teacher who would inspire thousands of children;

A peacemaker who would draw people together and stop wars.

No-one will ever know what I might have grown up to be

Neither me nor my parents or anyone else

For I was not allowed to live

To find out.

 

By Eileen Morrison for WRITE to LIFE

www.enthusiasticpoet.blogspot.com

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