Dani's Niche

Family history. A novel idea.

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No Voice

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The month of May. A time to celebrate new life. A season of beauty, renewal, hope.
A time to honor mothers.

A mother is one who has given birth to a child or a mother blessed through adoption. I am thankful for our son’s birth mother who allowed me the privilege of being his mom. A woman may be a stepmother, a foster mother, or a mother to many through nurturing rather than birthing. One who has miscarried is a mother with a baby in heaven. The woman whose womb held a tiny life ended by unnatural means is also a mother. To her I dedicate this poem.



Here I grew from
A seed
To a form of perfect
Tiny parts.

You cried
When voices spoke of you in
When they said
A girl can
Make the grades
Be top citizen in her class
Succeed in life
If only…

No longer safe
I cried out
From your womb, but
I had no voice
To shout that shame
Would fade
But guilt would linger
A lifetime.

Voices spoke
In whispers
Calling him doctor.
Murderer was his name.

The cold hard metal
Sucked me from your womb.
Piece by piece.
Blood. Blood. Oh the horror!
The deed was done.

Your song
Your words
“Forgive me.”

A bright and happy place.
Safe at last
With others
Like me.
Too many.
Too many who had no voice.

You gave me no name.
Never knew if boy or girl.
Never knew
My beauty like you.

Guilt ridden
You wondered,
You remembered
The deed, the loss.
Too many years.

Along life’s way
You received the gift
Life eternal.

Your body,
Crippled and aged
Expelled its last breath,
Passed through the narrow way
To the gate
Where I was waiting for
Arms that could have held me
In life.

They hold me now
For eternity.
No tears.
We are one
At Peace.

Across your forehead
Your new name.

You gaze at mine.
I do have a name after all.
My name is Grace.