Archive
01/21/09 - (2)
In Utero
You believed that not ever, not even on your deathbed, With your last gasps, would you say, "I never thought I'd live long enough to see the day,"
Since you died in utero, a victim of placental abruption, And, through a lengthy, messy process, Had to be extracted (and not intact), rather than delivered.
Yet, somehow, your soul was catapulted into life, Radically altering your nonexistence, Forcing you to account for your enduring amidst the quick,
Accept your equivocal position, with equanimity, stoicism. Nevertheless, being a ghost had its virtues, Not the least of which was that you couldn't be seen or heard.
And in that state, you persisted, eight decades, Until your soul finally caught up with your mangled remains, Allowing you to proclaim it officially deceased
And enabling you, after all, to say what you would have said, Had you been born alive, normal, in corpore: "I never thought I'd live long enough to see the day."
01/21/09 - (2)
|
|||
|
|||
