I’ve never come out
Of original birth,
Fate, I mean,
Never figured out
The pain, I mean,
The sin is palpable.

I mean, is it
A sin to be born?
Into past illiteracy?
To not knowing, really,
How we are here?
Then, we were young,
More culpable to our
Future thinking. Maybe,

If we don’t ever come out
Of original birth,
Life, I mean,
Never prove ourselves,
The pain, I mean,
The sin is palpable.

I mean, is it
A sin to be born?
Into present’s technology?
To now knowing, really,
The path of our here?
Then, we were growing,
More culpable to our
Now thinking. Maybe

If no one comes out
Of original birth,
Death, I mean,
Never wines about
The pain, I mean,
The sin is palpable.

I mean, is it
A sin to be born?
To finally future posterity?
To see, knowing really,
That we are adult,
More culpable to our
Past thinking? Maybe…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 10/9/07