Twelve Weeks – a Poem

Twelve Weeks

by Rachel Forster

My eyelids closed,

I curl my toes,

I feel.

Her hand press her stomach.

I wonder if, when at last she knows.

Will she finally think of me?

Or of what I will be,

If given the choice?

There are some things that we

Cannot see,

Like organs now formed inside of me,

But that’s the way it’s meant to be:

Being hidden, veiled in secrecy,

Gives life an air of mystery.

I hope when at last I am revealed

My mother will rejoice

Until that day please speak for me

Because I have no voice.

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