1. "The Mother" by Gwendolyn Brooks.
"If I stole your births and your names, your straight baby tears and your names,..., your marriages, aches, and your deaths".
This line makes me really sad. I think that abortion is paid with sorrow, guilt, and solitude. It makes me sad to think that these unborn babies wont have the opportunity we had to see the beautiful light of the sun, and to feel the air and breath it. They wont have the chance to feel love or to be loved. It is unfair to take their rights away. I feel guilty because I cant do nothing to stop these crimes. It is incredible to see and to know that there are people with no sentiments, or morality. I dont think these people are going to experience the blessing of giving life to another human being. I think the guilt wont let them be as happy as they should be. In my opinion, giving birth is a blessing that many people have, and those that cant have it might even die for it.
2. "Alone" by Maya Angelou.
"Nobody but nobody cant make it out here alone".
This line made me think of many things, such as not having someone by my side when I get older, or becoming a bad mother, what would happen to me if I turned to be sterile?; these are thoughts I had when I read this line. I love kids, I love taking care of them, It is only the diapers that get me nauseas. I think about what type of mother I will be in the future. Will my children abandon me? Will they get tired of me? Will I end up 'Alone'? I want to be like my mother, she is the best mother ever, and I will never leave her alone, or abandon her. I think you children are the ones that stay by your side, and take care of you when you cant take care of yourself. They dont let you die in a solitude. I dont think a person can "make it out here alone".
3. "Destiny" by Rosario Castellanos.
"We give life only to what we hate".
I dont agree with this line. I think that we have the virtue of living, not because our mother hated us, but because they love us. My mother loves me and my little brothers, and I love her back. But my question is: why would you hate something that doesnt have breathing, and that is not living yet? I think about this all over again, and I truly dont find a logic.
Thanks for reading.
Poetry
The Mother
by Gwendolyn Brooks
Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed
children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches,
and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?--
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You were never made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.
Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you
All.
From A Street in Bronzeville by Gwendolyn Brooks, published by Harper & Brothers. © 1945 by Gwendolyn Brooks. Used with permission. All rights reserved
Alone
by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Destiny
by Rosario Castellanos
Destiny
We kill what we love. What’s left
Was never alive.
No one else is close. What is forgotten,
What else is absent or less, hurts no one else.
We kill what we love. Enough of drawing a choked breath
Through someone else’s lung!
There is not air enough for both of us. And the earth will not hold
Both our bodies
And our ration of hope is small
And pain cannot be shared.
Man is an animal of solitudes,
A deer that bleeds as it flees
With an arrow in its side.
Ah, but hatred with its insomniac
Glass eyes; its attitude
Of menace and repose.
The deer goes to drink and a tiger
Is reflected in the water.
The deer drinks the water and the image. And becomes
-before he is devoured – (accomplice, fascinated)
his enemy.
We give life only to what we hate.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment