Eighteen and pregnant
He married me
But he didn’t tell me
He didn’t want me
Or a child
Or any other anchor
He just left us alone

In the dream I was in a miasma
A swamp, a pool, my dilemma
Submerged to above my fifth shakra
In major life changing drama

Holding a baby above the dark water
The most perfect offering I had to give
Flutter kicking in murky darkness
Like the mystical protoplasm
Pulsing within

A chance for him to be saved from me
From my compassless future and
Unknowing of self too early to be
Detoured by the wetness of mothehood

Surrounding the pool
Smiling fake grisly smiles
Each clasping their own hands
Not mine or each others’
As if everything were okay
Stood everyone I’d ever known
Or who’d known me
Who all said they loved me
And knew I couldn’t be free
Not then not later not today

I held out the baby for
Someone to save him
I reached out but they didn’t see
They smiled and they nodded
But nobody took him
All that he has now is me
I accept this new reality

The journey begins now for me


3/3/99

10/17/2003

Posted on 10/17/2003
Copyright © 2024 Siri Lipscomb