Choice

We shudder

(and we should)

to hear a tale of

mindless violence

inflicted on an innocent

who should be safe

within his parents' selfless arms

And yet

when met with

less-than-pleasant fact

of tiny humans, full-formed,

torn in bits

from their own mothers’ souls,

we shrug, untouched, and smugly smile,

“choice.” 

3 AM

His little wrist rests
against my finger

Wide blue eyes no longer cry, but hide, tired,
beneath gold-auburn lashes

As eager lips slurp nourishment
cleft chin pressed against my breast

Precious baby boy!
his mother's joy, his father's pride

Daddy's eyes and mama's hair -
two souls mingled, manifested in his little life.

The wild world waits to be explored:
ideas, places, so much more for him to know -

For me to help him learn
to help him grow, strong and bold, wise and kind

But, for now, he sighs, and falls asleep
well-fed, content, secure

Sure of all he needs right now:
wrapped up in lavish love.