Any Day Now

The nightmares came,
And now they come again,
Two of them,
In rapid succession,
Sometimes for days,
Sometimes for weeks,
This year for months,
As the brisk November air,
Is greeted by the cool summer breeze,
Beyond belief reminding me of that sullen day in Detroit,
As sub tropical realities break through,
And painful decisions do recoil.
Torture quelling any thought other than you, as I tortured you,
As both cruel and unusual punishment,
For what did you do?
What did you do?


Your existence enough to cause your demise,
That knowledge stays with me,
And again reminds me of what  I have done,
Always has and always will,
Reminded of what power and money can do,
And people that truly don’t see,
Forest for the trees,
The misery of mental projections,
Internalized hellish trial,
Mine own,
Of my crime against humanity,
Against my own child,
C H I L D R E N,

So, so, so sorry am I,
Silent stalker of repressed emotions,
Those that I must endure,
For to do less would mean my own quietus,
The instant terror does not creep,
But leaps,
Inside my psyche and haunts my sleep,
Shaking my resolve as I awake,
The skeletons in my closet are not only proverbial,
Abstractly literal,
The symbolism of this agony,
So overpowering I am assaulted,
As a domestic abuse that I conceded,
Robbing you of life, lives,
As I did,
I did,
You live on, frightfully, inside this mind,
Torn already into three parts,
I and I and I,
With a bids eye view of what an abortion looks like,
With a front row seat,
Apparent encores without bravos,
Gashes in this weary soul, reliving the pain of a broken heart,
My greatest aspirations, taken,
Reliving time and again how it feels,
To watch the light of an unborn child,
By my hand,
By my hand?

In surreal images, lurid, prurient,
Of your mother, running toward me,
Tears welling up in her eyes,
As her shrill and piercing screams,
Command that I look at you,
As she carry you,
Both of you covered in blood,
Running down the hall of that clinic,
Its institutional walls and discrete exterior,
So perfectly recorded in every detail,
That I could walk from Toronto with my eyes closed,
Having returned to the scene of the crime since our time,
A trip that I will never forget,
And have taken again,
Closing them now,
No good, for I am here,
The Mekong calling me,
I do look, my humanity demands it,
For even as I may try not to,
I lost more than my innocence that day,
And this one that follows,
And again,
I lost the gift of life, the power of it,
Taken away by over zealous parents,
Your mothers,
Family, friends and others,
Who despite our designs,
Instead decided that they knew better,
As time passes and I reflect,
Making the same mistakes,
On the events leading up to your demise,
I beat myself up,
Raising my head to the heavens;


I embrace the raw emotions and feelings,
Knowing that I must experience this pain,
To account for the ill done against you,
And YOU,
That ill,
With a resonance that becomes master of my thoughts,
Divided, confused, scared, shocked, upset,
Berating, deflating, never abating,
For nothing would change,
Could change,
What we were forced to do,
What we chose to do,
What I said was all right,
Knowing that my solace will only arrive,
When I know your mother has again been with child,
And I too get to hold dear a child of my own,
I’m sorry,
An apology that seems vacuous now,
But it is true,
I am,




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