It is especially poignant for me, thanks to my lovely wife who has presented me with two wonderful sons: Richie (12), and Nathan (one week), plus a most-of-the-time-wonderful 14 year old daughter (Shauna - just kidding, sweetie).
Thank you, Mark, for these beautiful words.
While not confronting the tragedy of abortion as directly as your fine lyrics, I've found the following W.B. Yates poem a prophetic, if not subliminal indictment of the macabre practice...
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scare could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.
-William Butler Yeats
I've had it on my home page for some time now..
NO BIRTHDAY
I never had a birthday,
A party or a cake;
Never had a chance to play,
or watch the sun awake.
I ne'er beheld the seasons fair--
Saw winter, spring, or fall;
Or felt a brush of summer air,
Or heard a wildbird call.
I never saw a lark in flight,
Beheld a flowering tree;
Or gazed upon the stars at night--
Nor sailed upon the sea.
No chance had I to go to school,
And be with girls and boys,
Go swimming in a shady pool,
Or make a little noise.
And Christmas joys were not for me,
Ne'er would a New Year ring;
I'll never gather 'round a tree,
And happy carols sing.
But most, I never knew of love--
To give, or to receive;
I never heard of God above,
Knew nothing to believe.
And even when I died, so young,
I had no funeral;
No one to weep, no saddend song--
I had no burial.
You see, I was aborted--
Torn from my mothers womb;
She really had no time for me,
A bucket was my tomb.
And now I think what might have been'
If I'd a chance to live;
A chance to try, --to sink or swim,
And of myself to give.
So, won't you set a day aside--
A birthday once a year;
A day for me, who so young died,
Unloved, unwanted here.
********
Copyright 1975 Richard Kenny,
All rights reserved
...so the argument for abortion is emotionless, heartless and soulless...
---------------------------------------
With so many wrong decisions in my past, I'm not quite sure
if I can ever hope to trust my judgement anymore.
But lately I've been thinking, 'cause it's all I've had to do.
And in my heart I feel that I should give this child to you.
(Chorus)
And maybe you can tell your baby,
when you love him so, that he's been loved before;
By someone who delivered your son
From God's arms, to my arms, to yours.
If you choose to tell him, and if he wants to know,
How the one who gave him life could bear to let him go;
Just tell him there were sleepless nights; I prayed and paced the floors
And knew the only peace I'd find is if this child was yours.
(Chorus)
Now I know that you don't have to do this,
But could you kiss him once for me
The first time that he ties his shoes, or falls and skins his knee?
And could you hold him twice as long when he makes his mistakes,
And tell him that he's not alone, sometimes that's all it takes.
I know how much he'll ache.
This may not be the answer for another girl like me;
But I'm not on a soapbox saying how we all should be.
I'm just trusting in my feelings and I'm trusting God above,
And I'm trusting you can give this baby
Both his mothers' love.
(Chorus)
-- From God's Arms To My Arms To Yours
Words and music by Michael McLean
My first question to the lady in the church.... what better place than church. ??
Perhaps........ but in Indiana, THIS is what passes for righteous indignation THESE days........