Tell me, mother, can you hear me?
Why is it, mother, you seem to fear me?
I listen to you when you are talking,
I move with you when you are walking.
Whenever you stand, or move, or sit
I'm always, mother, a part of it.

I'm still so small, just four months old.
Please tell me I'm not too heavy to hold!
You know already, as a mother knows,
I have ten little fingers and ten little toes
and, mother, I think I have some hair.
I hope, like yours, it's soft and fair.

Dear mother, can you hear me now?
Why do you frighten me somehow?
I hear a loud voice - is that my father?
He's shouting I'm "nothing," just a "bother."
Don't cry, mother, I do love you.
Tell my father I love him too.

Tell him about my arms, so small,
some day I could toss him a basketball!
Tell him my legs are light as a feather
but some day we'll take a walk together!
Dear mother, can you hear my voice?
Don't cry anymore … let's both rejoice!

Don't listen, dad, to those who lie,
I want to live … they want me to die.
I may not know - am I a girl or boy?
But I know, in my heart, I will bring you joy.
Tell me, mother, have I done something wrong?
Why can't I become your lullaby song?

What have I done to cause my doom
when God put me here, safe in your womb?
Yes, God put me here with Divine elation
when He formed me as His Divine creation!
Then how could you and dad agree
to have some doctor do away with me?

Dear mother I pray you'll change your mind,
Dear father I pray you'll help her find
a place where people understand
my life has its destiny in His hand.
I'm praying too some day you'll see
a precious delivery - the gift of me!
 
 

By Marilyn Scott Adapted from an essay by Maria Duke