by Kamina Hall, a black, transracial, late discovery adoptee in the USA
They say it’s their right, their right to create and own a life,
Interestingly enough, this is a perception as old as buying a wife.
Are we nothing more than cattle, to be traded and sold?
Or we are the light of the Universe, sent through her womb, more precious than gold?
Interesting the amount of studying and toiling that goes into obtaining degrees,
Yet, when forming life any and everyone is allowed to do as they please.
Change your mind, wrong color, or simply too young?
With the swipe of a pen, that new soul changes hands, and their life comes undone.
I knew your heartbeat, your voice, your smell, all before I ever saw your face,
Though their arms might have attempted to replace you, no one ever took your place.
There was a dark empty yawning void in my soul I never knew existed,
Drugs, sex, alcohol, and self-sabotage; still the madness persisted.
Firmly we declare, you can’t own a life, and creating it isn’t your right,
The soul is simply in your care, on loan from the Universe, until it can fight its own fight.
Take seriously the implications and ripples you drop into the pond of life when creating,
Children we are for only a moment, adulting sees us with mounds of trauma sedating.