A Poem by Shelly Bell

I felt that this perspective needed to be written from...

Sometimes I write until I'm right.

Head so clouded with words.

Rain pours through my eyes.

Pen to paper.

Hear the thunder roar.


What God has built,

let no man put asunder,

including my hu-man self.

The crackle of waves crashing,

nerves doing flips,

in the pit of my stomach.

The perfect storm.


A fetus.

Growing for less than 6 weeks,

tugs back and forth with my apprehensions.

Sickness from the bottom up,

leaving me immovable

over toilet seats.




A drunken stupor.

Bare skin meets.

Sperm and egg tango until they fall asleep.

Embedded in my uterine walls,

my body down for the cause,

relationship on pause.


Now here we are.

Challenging belief.

I, mother of 2.

he, dad of 3.

Lightening strikes,

we meet,

swaying in the wind,

just fun.

6 months and 6 weeks later,

speaking of adding a 6th branch

to our family tree.


Happily rooted in the moment.

No drama.

No discourse.


No need for divorce from her,

until I feel a force from her,

or it could be a he.

He gave word,

it's no being we would ever see

and I agreed.


Muscles contract.

There's nothing left.

I've given it all up.

Morning sickness led to noonday prayers.

shy attitude.

head dipped,

hiding from disgusting stares.


They protest my decision.

The angel in me living.

The devil on my shoulder,

looked back for his approval.

The disposition,

never colder.

I'll be right here.

Head nodding,

we just want this to be over.



the waiting room was relaxed.

Met a woman,

kicked back in a chair,

magazine in hand,

breaks the silence asking

"is this your first time?"


Indicating she was frequent this office

I guess my trembling hands

signaled me a novice.

She commenced to

speak on how many weeks she was.


We exchanged some calming energy.

Some mutual sisterly love,

until her name was called.

Mine shortly after.

The conversation concluded in laughter

I felt condemned by an

optimistic view of relief.


Leaving my faith on

the waiting room seat.

The nurse prepped me

for the anguish to come.

The removal of lustful debris,

giving back to God

what he had given to me,

one more chance at



I wonder if he considers,

me ungrateful for doing so

or a martyr for allowing

another child to escape poverty.

The possibility of an absent father or

one tracked living on

account of single parenting.


Gowned up.

Ready for suction.

Expected the worst.

Remembering stories told.

Pictures painted.

Pain depicted in

the reminiscent words

of women across the world


pro-life or pro-choice?

As if we have a voice

in who lives or who dies.

God controls death no

matter how instrumental

we are in the process.

I.V. in left arm

right arm to chest

"just rest" the doctor says


Did I have time to change my mind?




Light blinds.

Eyes roll.

My soul grows quiet.


Expecting infant cries to awake me.

Nightmare of lullabies.

Dreams of empty cribs.

Colorful toys destroyed

Darkness falling all the joys of life.


It didn't happen.

what was wrong?

what I did was not right, right?

After orchestrating the death

of my unborn child.

I did not morn.

Scorned for my action by others.

In disbelief that I find

satisfaction in my right to choose.

Nothing to cry about.

I waited for an insurgency of grief.

it never showed.

I didn't feel a thing.

Morning sickness,


My children,


My mate,

still friend.


I vowed to never let this happen again,

but was not traumatized

I realized that

the baby would be better off

with God than with me.

Why birth a child

into a less than ideal situation selfishly?

Life is not a matter I can

take into my own hands.

Does God forgive fornication

easier than sins,

because humans consider them advanced?

some things are frowned upon,

while others are ok

to do over and over again

as long as you repent.


The guilt of purposefully approaching the

guillotine is what adds meaning to the

roar of machines.

The tears pro-life activist

have described for years.

fears of God's judgment.

For me it was quick.

I went to sleep sick,

woke up rid of it.

This must be why it's

easy for some women

to do it over and over again


I make no excuse for living carelessly

yet the gruesome imagery

of the scene projected

on me from other women

was just not my experience.

the next lifetime is coming

if that baby chooses me


I may choose to accept

another opportunity to be

it's mother.

Copyright Shelly Bell 2010

© 2010 Shelly Bell

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Added on May 21, 2010
Last Updated on May 21, 2010


Shelly Bell
Shelly Bell

Alexandria, VA

To merely refer to North Carolina native and Alexandria, VA resident Shelly Bell as a curious and talented consumer of life’s most positive energies would only tell half of the story. An award-w.. more..

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A Poem by Shelly Bell