Mon, 07/07/2014 - 13:38 -- meginn

Forget Me Not



Morning sickness brings the blues,

Monthly cycle is overdue.

She was drunk that night,

Flinging morals in the wind,

Before she knew it, she was in bed. 

The rest is history.

Now she carries the consequence of her actions.

The swollen tummy is a testament.


Her friends abandoned her,

Her family doesn't know,

The only way to hide it,

Well, she thinks it has to go.

Appointments at the doctor's,

Advice for her to get rid of it,

She takes a trip to the clinic,

Where all unwanted things go. 


Nurses prepare her for the procedure,

Hours later, the baby taken care of,

She walks out, shaking, concerned about what she's done.

The rest of her life is haunted by her actions,

Dreams at night, the emptiness of her soul,

Depression never leaves her,

She is never the same.


Years later, the clinic is bought out,

Transformed into a pregnancy center,

Helping young mothers with unwanted babies,

Around that building is a pebbled walkway,

Each pebble in that path represents one baby that was killed in the abortion clinic.

Each a testimony of a babe, whispering, "forget me not.:"


But now, once a place of death,

It has become a place of hope,

Helping women,

Those who have made wrong choices,

To see the fragility, joy of life,

To see the sacredness, the value of life,

To see the love, the grace of a Savior.


All the tearful faces,

All the woeful stories,

All the records of the dead,

Are all a cry of babies,

Those who never saw the sun.

They never knew what it was to love.

They never knew what it was to sing, or dance, or laugh,

They never knew the feeling of wind, or of rain,

They are whispering - "forget me not". 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741