Only 23; My Sarai


United States

Something that I can't live without is the idea that my child knows I love her, and that I'm sorry.


I was 23, too young to be

Your mother

Living a life

Wild and free

Reckless, like any other

Traveling between

Countries and dates

Times in space

Marriages and race


I couldn’t do it alone

Or maybe I could have

I beg your forgiveness

I know that I shouldn’t have


It’s not your fault

-- and maybe you’ll never know --

After all,

You were only an embryo

I saw you at six weeks

and at eight

Trembling between my fear,


Then imagining your tiny baby feet

Your moreno skin against mine

So pale

Your tiny body

So frail

Yet so perfect


How can I think this way

and still not have you?

How can I love you, and feel like your mother

when I know you’re not here?

How can I forgive myself for making the best decision

at the time?


When will I know if I made the right choice?


I wait and I travel and I buy and I study

Hoping for a sign that it’s all okay

With each day that passes, I still don’t know


But I can’t forget you;

I won’t.


I’ll keep you forever

In my heart,

but not my arms,

my Sarai


I beg of you,


Remember that mommy loves you,

Even though

She was



This poem is about: 
My family


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