The Cry of the Unborn Child

a poem by Vaishnavi Prasad

It’s strange how fate plays,
Life’s game in many ways
And chose it’s field on my life.
And like ritual magic
It is indeed tragic
That I had to be a sacrifice.

I never had expected
That I would be rejected
For I found out something so sad!
My mother didn’t want me
And so, she disowned me
And now she’s turning very bad.

I wish I could tell her,
What in life I would prefer.
To live or to die? She didn’t ask!
If only I could live,
My talents I would give
And soon in wealth I would bask!

I don’t have a choice,
But at least I have a voice
To tell anyone who will hear-
How it feels like for me to know
That I will not live anymore
And not be able to shed a tear

I hope you’re listening
Mom, I hope something rings
When I try and tell you this:
“Inside your womb
Mom, don’t build my tomb!
The joys of life I don’t want to miss.”