I heard her curse in church again

June 23, 2014

I heard her curse in church again;
the priest was drunk again.
She should have known
holy water won’t wash out
the funeral in her eyes,
and stammered sermons wouldn’t comfort her.

When I asked her why,
she cried,
she lied,
said an angel got her high,
and she woke up like this—
swollen—
with a parasite in her uterus.

She almost came to grips with hanger wire
before she knocked on His door,
but he never answered,
so she came here.

Day after day,
she prayed,
she begged on her knees.
Not because she didn’t want a child,
but because a teenage addict is less
than what she thought a child deserves.

I didn’t know what to say,
I only came here for AA.
After a pregnant pause,
I grabbed her by her shoulders and told her,
“His son won’t save you,
but yours might.”

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