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You Are My Art |
You are my art.
I fell in love with you
long before you left my body–
but it’s not what you think
I knew of you
before the lady at the free clinic
showed me pictures of foetuses.
I was halfway through my
junior year in high school
and had decided to work hard
but suburban schools
weren’t used to white girls
walking their halls,
sixteen and pregnant.
Out of 700 students, only three
talked to me, while the others
whispered as I went by.
And the teachers–
I guess they missed the lecture
that explained that
pregnancy isn’t infectious
and that by calling on me
when I raised my hand in class
didn’t mean their teenage daughters
were gonna catch it.
I told the vice principle
that I considered dropping out
he said he thought it was a good idea.
The secretary asked me what I was going to do.
I said, "I’m going to get my GED
and a degree in architecture
and fuck you all."
I have found journal entries
from then that say, “The music’s over,
I guess my career in the arts is gone.”
But I fought like hell
and the child I gave birth to
gave me back
everything that is me
with a knowledge
of myself.
And she is my art
and the reason I am standing here,
performing this piece.
I don’t propose to be pro-life or pro-abortion.
I do know that anyone else’s choice for me
would have been wrong.
I make my own choices.
My choices make me who I am.
I say my choices make me who and what I am
and that is everything to anyone
who bears the right to breathe.
And she is my art.
I always thought
that the auburn of her hair
grew like fire in my belly
with all the anger hope will love and fear
and burst the bag of waters-
and she came.
When I have wondered
why I should even be alive
she spelled out
in paper letters
on the dining room table
“Help, I need you.”
My girl
you are the reason for my life
and the doorway to my heart
and long after I am gone
you will be my art.
copyright 2002
Jeanne Marie
Spicuzza |
