On the altar of my vice.
Kicking, churning deep within;
Only God can see my sin.
Beneath my breast and deep inside.
Now the heart is punctured through;
I saw nothing else to do.
Unprepared, spontaneous life
Burst forth in the midst of strife.
“This is best,” or so it seems,
Only God could hear her screams.
He stoops down and gently takes
The precious soul that’s tossed as waste.
Oh my God! What have I done?
Precious gift, forever gone.
On my knees, in distress,
God, take away this emptiness.
Sweet angel up in Heaven waits
To meet me at the glimm’ring gates.
Dressed in white, my soul made new,
There is nothing more to do.
Jesus heard my every plea
And He did it ALL for me.
Every January, we celebrate the sanctity of life and mourn the millions of precious lives lost at the hands of those charged to protect them. My heart breaks for the children, but also for the mothers who know all too well, too late, just what they lost. This is a poem written in the first person. As a mother, I can imagine the emptiness and regret, even though I have not experienced it myself. Blessings friends.