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For Michael Rodney
The dream woke me from sleep,
my boyfriend and I had to keep running, 
across a bridge that never ended  
for killing a baby that we buried in a field.
For over twenty years, the memory of that dream 
sometimes came to mind during quiet time,
and I would ask myself why without receiving an answer.
Today I recognize the reality of what happened  
on an August day as a nineteen year old---
a day that I lay on a table, wept for a mere minute or two, 
or so it appeared to the nurse stationed beside my shoulder,
and the doctor, a man at the end of the metal stirrups 
with a machine to his left.
But these two could not see into my soul 
how it wept immortal tears of grief measured in terms of eternity
my child, how could I do this to you?
Yet, before I left my little one who they disposed of as garbage
I smiled at the nurse, probably thanked the doctor, 
began to run a life time marathon away from that moment. 
I kept myself distracted for years by smoking pot,
before school,  career, and success consumed my hours. 
When another baby conceived died in my womb---a miscarriage
then that dream first appeared began its haunting journey  
even more after the birth of another child 
whose father had asked me to abort---
to whom I refused---with terror, this hatred in my voice 
for a man who claimed to love me---but not our children enough to keep them.
So he left me and his child 
and I drank myself to sleep, watched too much television, 
eventually remarried a man wounded and broken like me, 
spent too many years fighting  one battle or another 
that I just kept losing until  I grew so weary, desperate for peace,
found YOU in scripture and prayer, your Presence in the tabernacle
YOU asked me to write and I answered with a poem 
that YOU sent me that revealed the secret of the womb, 
the beauty of the child growing within a mother’s body, 
and how a machine devoured my son that day 
and YOU simply forgave my sin---sweet merciful Lord                          

This dream no longer haunts me, but now begs me to speak with the hope that others may heal.
I am Silent N0 More thanks to the Lord, and through Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat


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