I have a secret.
Do you want me to tell you, Mommy?
It’s that I love you, Mommy, even though I haven’t even seen you yet,
because you keep me safe and warm, hidden in the darkness.
Mommy, I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry! I can feel you… I’m hurting you, aren’t I?
Every time I move, I can feel you gasping around me, trying to hide the pain.
But that won’t work with me, Mommy. You can’t hide it from me.
I can feel your sorrow, and I can hear the voices penetrating my darkness.
They’re feeding you lies, Mommy! Don’t believe them! Don’t trust them!
They say that I’m not alive, but here I am—
Mommy, why are you crying?
A man apologizing: the doctor. There are wailing voices,
but your crying blocks them all out. There’s only you; there’s only ever been you.
Mommy, please stop crying… I’m right here.
Your emotions are like the tide, the waves on the ocean, churning and plunging,
taking me along for the ride. Slow down, Mommy, you’re making me dizzy!
What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?
Mommy, I can hear them talking! I don’t like them; they’re cold and heartless
and they’re saying things about me. They say… they say…
Mommy, what’s an abortion?
Something thin and cold and sharp invaded my darkness, my privacy inside of you—
they called it a needle. Mommy, tell it to go away!
Make it stop! Stop! It hurts, Mommy, it burns! Help me!
Don’t let them take me away from you!
(Poem by Martina)