In today’s world, where conversations about reproductive rights have never been more polarizing, we find ourselves grappling with difficult questions about life, choice, and morality. Whether we're standing in defense of bodily autonomy or advocating for the rights of the unborn, it’s crucial that we explore the emotions, stories, and experiences tied to abortion with empathy and understanding.
The poem Be Quiet My Child delves into one of the rawest and most controversial subjects—abortion—from a perspective of deep conflict and sorrow. It does not take a political stance but instead reflects the internal voice of a mother grappling with a decision that may weigh heavily on her conscience. Here's the poem:
Be Quiet My Child
Be quiet, my child, as I drowned you,
Be still and do not cry,
We simply can’t afford you,
And therefore, you must die.
The world is full of children,
So we must have one less,
Be quiet, child, bear with it,
And please be motionless.
For God, He makes no statement,
To me, what is a life?
Be quiet, my child, be silent,
That I should hear your cry.
And so I am a woman,
And I shall have a right,
Evolution has no mercy,
And therefore, you must die.
So who makes out the better,
Between this act of you and I?
Well, you’ll be in the ocean,
And I'll just bake a pie.
This poem offers a dark and poignant look into the emotional landscape surrounding abortion. The language is stark, at times jarring, but this rawness reflects the emotional gravity of such a decision. The imagery of "drowning" and the quiet command for stillness speak to the silencing of both the child and the mother's inner turmoil. The poem juxtaposes everyday life—like baking a pie—with the irreversibility of ending a life, a contrast that deepens the emotional complexity of the decision.
One line that resonates particularly strongly is:
"And so I am a woman,
And I shall have a right,
Evolution has no mercy,
And therefore, you must die."
Here, the poet confronts the tension between individual rights and the impersonal nature of evolution or society’s demands. It is not merely a question of choice but of survival, practicality, and the brutal realities that sometimes shape such decisions.
But beyond its starkness, the poem also speaks to the silence of these experiences. Abortion, while often debated in public forums, is deeply personal, affecting the lives of those who undergo it in profound and often unspoken ways. Many women carry the weight of their decisions quietly, in a society that either demonizes or sanctifies them, depending on which side of the argument you stand on.
We often reduce abortion debates to policy, statistics, and court rulings, yet the lived experiences—the internal conflicts and emotional repercussions—are rarely addressed with the same nuance. This poem attempts to articulate a part of that emotional experience, unearthing the pain and dissonance that can accompany such choices.
Whether or not one agrees with the sentiment expressed in Be Quiet My Child, it is an opportunity for reflection, an invitation to think about the ways in which we, as a society, frame discussions on life and choice. Are we too quick to judge? Are we truly listening to the stories and emotions that reside behind the political rhetoric?
No matter where you stand on the issue, let’s remember that abortion is more than a debate—it’s about people. It’s about those who struggle with decisions that are far more complex than any law or policy can capture. Compassion, in these conversations, should always be at the forefront.
Let this poem be a reminder to approach the topic of abortion with care, respect, and a willingness to listen to the quiet voices—on all sides—who are often drowned out by the noise.
by Dan and Bonkers
SUPPORT MENTAL HEALTH AWRENES NOW!!!
