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A Mother

In the weeping womb, 

a vacuum

aborted of intent,


an echo

of what had never been,

of treasure never spent.


And they’re out there on the pavement

with placards bent on death,

to say we’re killing future’s

before future’s drawn a breath.


Life’s worth? 

cannot be measured,

enough to judge another

but any hope there is

must dwell within a mother...

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