A life that’s wanted is a life that’s life.
Unwanted life? Disposable tissue.
So at what point does life become a life?
Unplanned or planned – too often the issue.
The silent scream of babies ripped apart
Is deafening to me – I can’t be still
And not express what grieves my beating heart
While theirs are halted at another’s will.
What right have we to turn a woman’s womb
Into an unplanned baby’s living tomb?
© Marie Elena Good, 2016