[WhatILivefoR]

Sonnet

A tiny breath escapes fragile lungs of pure essence;
short breath to your own; mute but definite.
Gentle hands enfolding the exhale in silence;
they take your hand, constrain “I’ll take your word for it.”
Take not words, but innocence. Innocence.
Leaving ruby-eyed hands enfolding one phantom scream-
whose weight bruises darker than mascara blackened tears. Such abience.
Denial to response buys the decision for each;
but this nightmare of death is the only choice…
the word falls hard to the embrace of mass irony, with all his appeal.
protest for free will, but for what freedom do you vindicate?
The silent cry of the unborn claims a macabre voice;
through their silence, to the world, witnesses reveal
truth; that relief is not found in a death certificate.