There is but one child birth I can speak of
And I cannot speak of it, to you
For it is a forbidden, secret thing
Swaddled in shame
Buried in trauma
records sealed and names erased
This family had nothing to do with it
Any wonder or inquiry
Obliterated by the small allowed honesty
It was an event that didn’t exist.
The key, swallowed by shame
Shame killed by fear
Fear destroyed by guilt
Guilt buried by anger
Anger drowned in complacency.
And yet, here I am