Tag Archives: abortion

108. flesh and blood

intrinsically, we are all the same: flesh and blood, bones and dust. and when we are born, the world flutters under the weight of us. we are the oxygen of life.

as a woman, it is hard not to feel the nautical beat of potential life swimming somewhere deep down inside, the taut knot tied tight. and only the tide of red flushing the possibility out is a concession of peace, a book falling shut with a gust of wind, oyster shell clamming up. we learn to breathe only for ourselves again.
we are liberated, we are free. from responsibility, from fear, from life, yet unborn, screaming to break out with a pair of lungs not yet formed.

and yet, on the other side of a coin, we are told that once formed, the foreign clump has rights? jeremy hunt and patriarchy. it’s men’s world, just as it ever was. we strive for humanity but religion clouds the eyes. are statistics not enough? what’s humane about bringing an unwanted child into the grim ouskirts of this world?

i grew up in ukraine. the newly independent, drained ukraine of the nineties, worse even than it is today. i was a hotly unticipated child, the following story is not about me. the story is about a friend of my mum’s who said something i will never forget. at christmas, i take my kids to visit an orphanage to see how lucky they are to growing up in a family.
there’s in excess of 100,000 orphans in ukraine even now. 90% of them still have living parents, parents who don’t want to or can’t look after them. at 16, when they leave orphanages, they, more often than not, take to the streets to live the life of crime.

now, i’m not saying abortion is right but if ever i was in a bad position, i’d want to have that second chance, the opportunity to do what’s right and not throw a part of me away onto the scrapheap of life. pro-choice was never just about women, it’s also about the suffering of children born only to be abandoned.

then again, what would you know about that, mr. jeremy hunt,  educated at oxford, born to a sir?

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79. let me fall into this stupour

why was the moon shining so bright last night? and the night before last. the night before that it was cloudy but still it managed to peek through. and i don’t know what to say to you. i used to moon-watch when i was studying astronomy at school.
let me fall into this stupour. the whites of my eyes will turn into two big moons to shine on the world in the darkest light. for i am sin.
all sin.

and S is catholic.
beyond all means.
and i no longer know if he believes in love, because he believes in so little by believing in so much. if he ever asks, i shall tell him this much: that i no longer know him, because what he was to me is not compatible with what he is now. 

i believe in choice. to me, choice is love.
catholicism is brutal: it gives no choice.
abortion is not an option he told me. what if the pregnancy is the result of rape? i asked. she’d still have to have the child.
my eyes glazed over. i forgot who i was speaking to.

and he’s not sure if he believes in contraception: life hasn’t forced him to think about that yet. how can anybody say that in a world with AIDS?
i’m lost. what does he know of the fire of desire that drives me on and on?

i know sometimes you have to let go and start again, from scratch. but i can’t. not now.
suppose i am Kai, from Hans Christian Andersen’s book, and he is the splinter of troll-mirror that befell into my eye.

how can i run away if it it’s in the mind?