I resembled a green sprout sprouting within my mother's womb after conception. I was full of vitality and life. I fed through your blood mama, inside that sac within you in which I called home. I could hear the beats of your heart that we once shared together. I could hear everything around you, which made me want to jump with Glee.
But one day everything changed. A man with a very particular accent gave you a choice, you either get rid of it or we are through. At first, I did not understand, nor did I want to. I began to sense your tears as you caressed me. Only then was when I realized he had been referring to me this whole time. He would vigorously insist and fill you with suggestions. I began to pray, mama, that we would not win that he would not convince you. It was all useless; you did not care for me, for I was just a being, a poor defenseless being who only knew how to eat and grow in your womb in which I would never see again. You gave in and consented for him.
And Jesus replied, “I assure you: this day you will be with me in paradise”
As days went on you successfully carried out all the procedures required to terminate my life, not understanding that it was only the start of both your misfortune and my happiness. I grew tired of praying and shedding tears of blood which soon came out from inside you. Unfortunately, mama, you were unaware of this because you believed it was all the result of the medication you were given by the man who helped kill many who, like me, were never given the shot at life. Upon feeling that you were ripping me out from you, I felt a great devastating realization of being unwanted. I heard the applause that man gave you... the man with that distinct accent that commanded I were to not be born or ever see the light of day.
From where I am at mama, I can see how that man did not fulfill his promise to you despite having killed me. Just like you separated yourself from me on that day, that man alienated himself from you. I want you to know, mama, that I am happy and that I pray for you, him, and everyone else who has helped in committing heinous acts preventing children just like me from having a chance at life. Who is to say death does not give off a warning, of course it does. I never knew when I would live, but I knew exactly when I was going to die.
Elida De La Rosa – Blog
Missionariesservantsoftheword.com
(Translated by Ariela G. Morfin)
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