I wrote this poem a couple of years ago, it was about the time when there was a growing number of young women in Samoa who were pregnant, gave birth and abandoned their babies, some pre-mature, some left out for dead either at the river banks, drowned in the currents or the water pools or abandoned naked to fend in the elements - such a dark time. The thing that amazes me is that they always find the women who did this. Young mothers, ashamed and afraid to tell their families, some rejected by their boyfriends who were either not known to the family or was a married man or maybe a result of a one night stand, or a hidden or incesterial rape? - whatever the case, a life was taken.

I know there a many factors to consider that come into this, issues of many ways of prevention or sexual education, the woman's health etc etc - but I rather just keep it simple and say "that aside, this is just my thoughts on such a dark issue". As I read through it, I know it's not a masterpiece that it could never be considered as a poem but more of inner thoughts that I try to imagine and see myself as the child - it is very amature. So I welcome professional help and criticisim...hahaahahaha


I am not yet born,

Yet I can feel, hear, taste, touch – LIVE
I am in solitude, though I know I’m not alone
I am guilty, for this womb of sorrow
Through the vibrations of screaming voices and wailing
I hear the shame of my existence,
I feel the confusion and fear of this incubator’s soul

I am not yet born,

With anxiety and fear,
I am moving swiftly
Feeling each pounding step beneath me,
Feeling each pounding heartbeat above me,
Fear is exerted through the pores of the skin
with each sweat drop

I come to an abrupt halt!

Suddenly – wretched out into the cold brightness
Before time, incomplete, cold
flying into another watery existence
I am no longer!

Father! Why do you deny me?
Mother! Why are you ashamed of me?
My aiga! – help me, save me!-do you know of me?
Why are you afraid of me!

You coward!
I am innocent, like Jesus
you have found me guilty without trial
Convicted-knowing death is the verdict
I return to my creator unwrapped, unloved, unwanted
To be comforted and cradled in his arms

There, I will await for you
when you ask Him for forgiveness
There I shall be waiting to comfort you

Without Shame, sadness or sorrow
Without confusion, fear or anger
My chance of love I have for you

When I was not yet born.