The Decision

I walked the old wooden floor,
it sank beneath each step
as decisions yet to be born,
their sounds blatant and solemn.

I lit a cigarette and inhaled,
the whirl of smoke seemed to
choke the reality of my choices,
only to exhaled thoughts of revoke.

Little did I know that years back
when I made a silent vow,
on an old bible with passages
marked and worn with faith that bled.

Never to abort a child, how naïve was I,
to think I would not fall from grace by fate.
My womb was a temple of where we loved
and your seed sowed our child.

I remember my excitement and joy
that fell to suffocation, when all was told
the look of disbelief that appeared with rage,
as if I had committed a grave crime.

I saw fear wash over the scowl lines
upon you face, that reflected past mistakes,
of a child you left behind, due to youthful
circumstance beyond your control.

You said the decision was mine.
My dilemma only worsened as reality
sank into the depths of my heart,
torn by scruples, the vow I had pledged.

I walked to the kitchen without thought
opening the refrigerator, its shelves
were cold and as bare as my stare.
I knew I really had no choice.

Closing the door to my hungry questions,
I walked back across the worn floor
and inhaled another puff of smoke
only to exhale a silent thought;

I didn’t want to be me anymore.


Copyright 2003 Tracey L. Hardie