Two months into her pregnancy
after continuous amounts of regular
bleeding the doctors tell her I am
an ectopic pregnancy.
Miniature red flags are attached
at a frightening rate onto her belly
button. My father sees the risks.
He gorilla pounds fists onto chest
& huffs out, “Abortion.” Mother protests
by bookmarking her heart into the Bible.
She does not care if I die after she gives birth,
if she dies during labor, or if we both die.
At 12 weeks she sings to me in Spanish.
I can’t even hear yet but she thinks my faith
is already strong enough to listen.
“El Espiritu Santo vive dentro de mi vientre,
y la Sangre de nuestro bebe es la pasión
que hace religion vivir.” She mouths off
her hungry affirmations to God.
When I am born, they wait 3 hours
for my lungs to collapse, for my heart
to thrash until it stops beating, but nothing
bad happens despite the 99.9% chance
that something would.
Mama says, “Dios es amor.” She teaches
me misery is the match struck lit to fuel
the fires where Gospel is born.
God blessed my spirit with a 0.01%
label called milagro. Miracles are
grateful for existing and I should
always be thankful.
He loves me so much he chose a life
full of loss for me because he knew
I was strong enough to carry the ghost
weight of two babies my body
could not birth.
God loves me so much.
What miracle is in this life
after you forget I am Daughter?
What miracle in me is left
when you forget me, mother?
When you forget me, mother,
will the Spanish I know die too?
© 2017 RAQUEL REYES-LOPEZ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Thank you, upvotes are appreciated, so are comments, and tips.
Thank you for reading.
With love,
Mrs. Campos
P.S. I prefer writing poetry underneath my maiden name which is "Reyes-Lopez". In case some of you may be wondering. It's just how I prefer to publish my work digitally or in print.
