DRIP IN MY HAND.

I thought my distress would be brief
But for months and months I suffered acute grief
Covered by a blackness of the darkest hue
I was hurting, lost, didn’t know what to do
No chink of light into the black
I did something I can never take back
No cuddle, kiss goodbye
This was something I couldn’t rectify
He died but there was no funeral
And I was to blame for it all

The termination has been my biggest regret
Something...I’ll never forget
I could sit here forever, try to describe the pain
Sit here for decades I’ll never be able to explain
Every morning when I rise
Wonder about the colour of his hair, his eyes
Would he have looked like his father ,would he have looked like me?
I’ll never know... I’ll never see
I only saw his scan photo of black and white
Just before I killed the poor mite
I myself didn’t kill the baby but I gave my permission
The doctors and nurses carried out my decision
They did the killing, they did the crime
But it’s me that had to suffer and do the time
Confined to a place of mental detention
A dark room full of dejection and incomprehension
If there’s an afterlife would he hold my hand?
Say to me gently “It’s okay mummy I understand
There was nothing you could do
It’s okay mummy, I love you”

Or would he loathe me? Be full of hate?
He had no decision when it came to his fate
Would he look at me with contempt, disgrace?
Would he resent me, spit in my face?
I wouldn’t blame him if he did
It was I, not he that wanted to get rid