Un titular de ayer: "Colombia despenalizó este lunes el aborto hasta las 24 semanas de gestación". Seis meses. Es un escándalo. Hace poco escuchaba a una mujer hablar de las tres mentiras que le dijeron antes de su aborto: Que el feto no era más que un cúmulo de células, que el aborto era un procedimiento sencillo que no iba a tener ningún impacto en su salud, que al salir de la clínica se iba a olvidar todo. Han pasado muchos años y no se le olvida. Las mujeres son tan víctimas del aborto como sus hijos. Que hoy hable esta mujer en un poema imposible de olvidar (o cancelar):
(via) |
THE MOTHER
Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches, and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?—
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You were never made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.
Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you
All.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario