Conception

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Being a dad, raising a son

You were beautiful in there,

A beauty with such great fragility

It made all of our grand structures

Seem dull and Pointless

You moved in there

We had our cameras watching your every move

We decided if you were even alive

Or if you were anything more than a piece of clay

A raw spark that we could keep, discard or give away

Time and our useless rationalizations meant nothing to you

In there

That small space that was shrinking every second as you filled it

The tiniest fingers

The closed perfect eyes

Fighting for your life

No room for doubt, no malice nor forgiveness

Life without compromise

A space in that room

Where you wouldn’t remember

Not until we told you

How you kicked and how you fought

And how stubborn and insistent

You were…being born.

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