A Swift Wind Wept,
Over her lone unborn child,
Whom Wandered into her dreams,
And Grew & Grew,
Always wanting,
Compelling her to follow,
only Curiosity.
No wind beckoned her,
No power forced her,
The child whispered and sang,
A Slow draining, the effort to keep going, alone.
Slower and slower, she felt the child dying.
A choice had to be made,
Leave, gain strength, and breath again.
Or,
stay, follow the child and die.
I inched to the sea, where help was,
desperate I ignored the screaming child,
desperate I ignored my own freedom.
Just a little farther, breath was so close.
Air.
At last, power,push,pull.
The child stopped singing, and my mind dulled.
Back to life by killing the dream,
Death to life for killing the dream.