The Undesired

 

We're mourning for the undesired,

While the heedless sleep.

We're mourning for the undesired.

The knife is cutting deep.

 

We're yearning for our undesired.

How could it come to this?

We're yearning for our undesired.

No one will call her "MissÉ."

 

We're crying for the undesired.

Hear the muted scream.

We're crying for the undesired.

           It's like a dreary dream.

 

We're cutting out our undesired

Before she had a voice.

We're throwing out our undesired:

Victim of a choice.

 

The undesired, the undesired,

By whom are they so undesired?

Must we be forever haunted

By the souls of our unwanted,

Those done in by our own hand

Because their being wasn't planned?

 

We'll never know the undesired,

And all that they could give.

We'll never see the undesired.

Why can't we let them live?

 

David Martin

 

 

 

 

Home page   Poetry   Poetry Archive 15   Contact