An unset place, no cup or spoon. A Christmas time ache. No birthday in June.
The laughter of siblings. Grief. Despair. Midnight sweats. Stench filled air.
Breast cancer. Bleeding. PTSD. Anxiety, then flashbacks – baby and me.
Fear of my Judgment. Fear others will know. Fear of my death, how painful I’ll go.
Unforgiving of others, myself most of all. Frigid and cold. My life is enthralled.
Anger, then rage, burn with a flash. Exhausted I cry, wishing for death.
Afraid to say yes. Too weak to say no. It touches me always, every where that I go.
Lord, I can’t take it. Enough is enough. Free me from . . . post-abortion stuff.
– David C. Reardon
Originally published in The Post-Abortion Review 3(1) Winter 1995. Copyright 1995 Elliot Institute