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(written, not from experience – but from hearing the screams of the voiceless)

a letter from home, the womb where I grow…

2 Corinthians 12:9 “And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”


Torn from the sanctuary, without one breath
my story begins… will she regret?

My limbs are all growing, 
	the silence in here, calm and serene
		like a song – her melody, gentle heartbeat
growing, each cell a mystery…

oh, I can’t wait to see her, this woman, 
expecting someone – perfect, 
a flawless poem written by her hope,
a seamless beauty unspoiled by the past,

this is my beginning and my soul cries out
for the wonder of her touch,
the kiss of her lips on my brow,
this blessing of a mother’s love –
oh, how she will smile when I arrive.

But, wait…

Torn from the sanctuary – my story is so brief
I feel the darkness settling in – oh, this grief?!!!

Torn from the sanctuary – pulled from the dream
of a love that will never be
a love that still believes –
she was meant for me. 

Torn from the sanctuary, where there were no tears
I feel my soul is crying without end to the miseries…

Then I see Him – the One who created me
the first grace that pours over my spirit
the beautiful that isn’t wind or sea
the wonder that reaches into my grief
stills the darkness and whispers light to me

Finally, I can see…
	even without the mother 
		who I still love so deeply
I have a hope that will complete me
hope of a love that is beyond explanation
love this alive survives every frustration
love who’ll survive whatever may come
as I struggle to remember…

she wasn’t the only one
who loved me…

His grace is sufficient for the least of us…



for the voiceless, for those who weep 
because there is sorrow, so much grief
and abortion? – it claims the weak
the tiny form of one who seeks
unconditional love, love that sees
it is this love that should bring sweetest dreams.
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