[For pro-choice month on Feminist Fire]
Do we really grieve for a tiny embryo
that would fit easily in the palm of my hand,
perhaps just recognisably human?
Do we really grieve for an organism
with no personality?
Do we really grieve for an unknown, unnamed stranger?
Are we grieving
for what might have been?
for a fantasy that has slipped through our fingers?
for a blank slate that will never be coloured in?
As you stand in the bath and watch the clots of blood run away, wondering if you will ever feel clean again – is it really someone else that you grieve for?
That hollow ache is the final understanding of what it means to be a vessel.
It is a slow realisation that your time of carefree innocence is gone.
This is the day when you first understand that life is for real,
and that you only get one ticket.
Be at peace.