as if you could hear us speak

you silently slipped away
but I see you from time to time
looking without asking
a silhouette standing
large head haloed
and I have to turn away
ashamed
as the grief comes down
through the centre of my body
and charges my emotion
how can I apologise?
that we even spoke of abortion
in your holy presence
makes me suspect
you heard the guardsman at the gate
and knew the city
to be
hostile.
ah, it's conjecture,
but there's something tells me you knew
and in the kindness of your
sinless heart
you saw us here
and wished us no harm
and left.
how can a father-not-to-be apologise
to an unborn foetuschild
for not-bringing it into the world
in such a brutal way? or
was it that you were a fighter
who died by his own hand
rather than be taken
by the enemy?
one of these or all,
you are gone
and nameless
rot
and not
in paradise,
but alone,
shorn of grief, anger, jealousy,
love.
people tell me I am being sentimental
and not to think like this
and I wonder that I should ever
have been born.


by Jack Ohms