Thursday, 28 March 2013

A Poem Called "The Ectopic"

The Ectopic

'Your uterus is empty' they say as they perform the scan,
but its my heart that empties as I hold your fathers hand.
'We'll give you an injection and the ectopic will resolve',
The ectopic is what they call you my baby, who I dearly long to hold,
and resolve has not the meaning which it might to you and I,
instead its a polite way of telling me you will die.
'Not viable' I hear them say, which means that you wont live,
Ill never get to take you home or share the love I have to give.
'They had an ectopic' is the way whats happened is described,
which hardly seems to recognize we had a baby who has died.
I wish that they would use the words, the ones that make it real,
then maybe they would understand the sorrow that I feel.


No comments:

Post a Comment