I Cry
Barbara Peterson
August 12, 2007
I had no say in my birth. I had no choice of parents, birthplace, or circumstance. I only know life. I am able to breath the morning air, feel the mud between my toes, and lift my hands to the sky in wonder. I laugh, believe, try, fail, succeed, win, lose, love, feel, and sometimes I hate. But most of all, I cry. I cry because you cannot do these things. You cannot feel the mud between your toes, or touch the morning sky with your fingertips. Your eyes cannot see the bright sunrise or linger on the brightly colored landscape when the sun slips behind the mountains. You are unable to breath the fresh air or lie on the beach with the sand in your hair. I cry because I want you to have the things that I have. I want you to feel what I feel, and see what I see. I want you to be with me when I grow, and I want to see you grow. But I cannot do these things because you cannot, so I cry.
You are my unfulfilled dream, my lost hope. You are the part of me that never was, the part of me that died. I can never get you back or undo what was done, so I cry. I will always cry for you. No job, house, pet or car can take your place; nothing will do. A void fills the space in my soul reserved for you that cannot be filled. I still laugh, believe, try, fail, succeed, win, lose, love, feel, and sometimes hate; but I will never stop crying for you.
I made a choice a long time ago, and now I must live with that choice. It was my right, a woman’s right to choose, and I exercised that right. It was my body, and I never counted the cost. I count it now. Some things you cannot take back. Oh, you can change your mind about the color of your hair, the dress you will wear to the prom, or the handbag to match your shoes, but how do you change your mind about the life you decided to end? How do you take that choice back? How do you end the cries in the night and the pain that fills your being? How do you stop the void from engulfing your soul? When does the nightmare end? How do you forget what you have done?
And so I cry. I laugh at the world because no one can see my tears. They are hidden behind a mask of joy. When the mask is peeled back, the pain is laid bare from a wound that never heals. A part of me died with you that day, a part that I can never get back. I am less because you are not here.
I chose, I lost, I cry.
Copyright © 2007, Barbara H. Peterson
You are my unfulfilled dream, my lost hope. You are the part of me that never was, the part of me that died. I can never get you back or undo what was done, so I cry. I will always cry for you. No job, house, pet or car can take your place; nothing will do. A void fills the space in my soul reserved for you that cannot be filled. I still laugh, believe, try, fail, succeed, win, lose, love, feel, and sometimes hate; but I will never stop crying for you.
I made a choice a long time ago, and now I must live with that choice. It was my right, a woman’s right to choose, and I exercised that right. It was my body, and I never counted the cost. I count it now. Some things you cannot take back. Oh, you can change your mind about the color of your hair, the dress you will wear to the prom, or the handbag to match your shoes, but how do you change your mind about the life you decided to end? How do you take that choice back? How do you end the cries in the night and the pain that fills your being? How do you stop the void from engulfing your soul? When does the nightmare end? How do you forget what you have done?
And so I cry. I laugh at the world because no one can see my tears. They are hidden behind a mask of joy. When the mask is peeled back, the pain is laid bare from a wound that never heals. A part of me died with you that day, a part that I can never get back. I am less because you are not here.
I chose, I lost, I cry.
Copyright © 2007, Barbara H. Peterson
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