Nine minutes
The baby laying in the bassinet, her twin brother nine minutes apart, a painful statement would follow her all of her life..baptized at birth, was that a curse.
We’re brought home, my brother is held close to his mother’s chest, new born baby smell is so calming, meanwhile the baby girl is still in the basinet, no knowledge of her birth did
the mom know..
The babies are now crawling, soon they will start walking, talking too bad only the son existence matters to this world…
Years go by, still nothing has changed, nine minutes not knowing of me being conceived will always be echoed by her family.
Here we are as adults, my family has gone separate ways, our mother is no longer here, she’s with the Creator, my existence on this earth as a mom herself, who fully knows her children were each conceived out of love, with a man whom saved her life, when she was an adult crawled into a fetal position protecting herself from her siblings who only inflected pain in words, abuse, and not of love. I was that baby who was born nine minutes too late..
As one dear friend said to me, “they saved the best for last”.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.