the power to choose by anonymous
in flowered fields, the butterflies
on petals come and go
a purple flier joined the field
some fourteen years ago
she brought a smile to where she was,
such energy and joy-
she stopped to smell the flowers,
poppies, roses, even soy:
her birth was heralded
throughout the field as one of awe:
delight and effervescence
were the qualities we saw
but fourteen years go by
the cameras showed it all on tape:
bruisings, beatings, forcing, and
her innocence was...
police had told her family
that they would not track him down;
his buddies took him off,
their getaway car had left town.
that criminal injustice
was the least of her concerns,
for here our story takes
another devastating turn.
not only was there trauma
caused by innocence forlorn,
her doctors told her later
that a life would soon be bourne.
those joys of femininity
are for a different age;
she could not understand it all,
the news filled her with rage.
no one chose this for her
(and we know she's not to blame);
she doesn't want duality
her life is not a game.
but in the end the fatèd choice
was never hers to make;
the one choice she wanted
was the one she could not take.
just over two long years ago,
the robes had had their say-
and when they did, her father said
he wanted it that way.
choosing to come
over the ones already here;
the righteous all rejoiced
to hear a penalty severe.
so eight months later, this young one
was forced to pass along;
the complications took her life,
her voice, her joy, her song.
and in the name of life invoked
the harbingers of death
their righteousness prevailing
over every laboured breath.
so: if you claim the godly,
be prepared to take the stand
for all your "life is precious" platitudes
her blood is on your hands.