Hamlet never knew this Pain

To end, or not to end, that is the question:
Whether it’s nobler to stand in the eyes of others
Contempt in their gaze, their eyes shooting daggers
Or to walk myself to the clinic, take the loneliest road,
And end this life inside of me. To close, to prevent these eyes—
Prevent them from ever opening, a silent release to save them from
The shame of a child, born to a young girl and her father
The shame that accompanies incest, and having a fifteen year old mother.
Would my baby call him daddy, or papa? To suffocate, to end—
To end this life and send it to Heaven, but there’s the heart-wrenching question;
Would God take in my child, this tiny soul borne of such sad, sickening beginnings?
Does God even exist? How can He? Where was He when my father
Forced himself upon me, created this small bundle of life
This life that I both despise and love?
Those tiny hands, could I ever hold them
Without the pain of remembering?
To look into that face, every day
Watch it grow and change, and possibly become like
My rapist. Those features would haunt my dreams
And waking hours; the first steps a reminder of my own, as my father guided me,
The giggle of a playing child—a dark, sinister sound to no one’s ears but my own.
To work so hard and strive to hide
My baby’s identity from my mother, and the world outside.
Will he beat me when I begin to show and my belly gets big?
Will he try to end this life that I could not take, for fear of
God’s wrath or His lack thereof?
My cowardice now may sentence this innocent child to a life of humiliation
A life of secrets and an ominous, murky past. Society will not accept
Me and my child as wholesome, but rather view us through a kaleidoscope
Of derision and hatred. Their misunderstanding portrays our lives as jagged, shattered
Fragments of a happily ever after gone wrong.
My mind clouds over; this petite life force waiting on the precipice of my choice.
Strong resolutions dissolve as shadows of doubt creep in
Ensnare my thoughts,
The vision of a curly-haired, dimpled child interrupted by dark memories
I was certain I had buried, locked in the confines of my depths.
Feeling, for the first time, a soft movement inside
A tiny nudge I am certain I haven’t imagined
As faint as a summer’s sigh on my skin
Yet as tangible as the pain that shoots through my hand
When I hold the lighter’s flame too close.
Be all my sins remembered.
Be all my sins forgiven.


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