The Abortion That Lived

It was unheard of.  Uncanny.  But I know an abortion who lived.  He walks the streets angrily, fists clenched, jaw taut, eyes narrowed.  He trusts no one and hates with a passion.  His children are frightened of his wrath.  They move tentatively as if they are made of glass and afraid of shattering into a thousand pieces.  I have never seen his wife.

It is not his fault, really.  He was never meant to exist in this world.  His mother aborted him as a young fetus because he was formed as a result of non-consensual intercourse between her and her older brother.  That is to say, his mother was raped by a person who was supposed to care for her.  She was thirteen.

The young girl who was the unintended mother of this abomination of a man, went to one of those places that no longer exists: an abortion clinic.  She was treated well there.  Tenderly in fact.  The women who attended her were loving and supportive.  The doctor performing the abortion had no doubt in his mind that aborting this fetus was the correct and proper course of action.  He was glad to help this young girl.  When she returned home, however, she was shamefully treated by her father and her brother.  Their contempt of her weighed heavily on her for years until she managed to escape their fold.

There must have been some force present in the unborn child - a hatred exceeding all hatred - which kept it alive in a pile of biological refuse.  It thrived on the bloodied discarded dressings from other people's wounds.  It fed on trauma and fear.  It had no alternative really.  When it was large enough to wiggle about on its own, a mother rat took it and nursed it as one of her own.  The abortion that lived dwelt among trash piles and the stench of urine and human feces.

Oh God.  I can't go on.  It is too grim a story.  But you see, this is what I do sometimes.  I invent stories in order to try and explain why a person might be filled with such profound rage and hatred as to wear a shirt that says "Cure Abortion - the leading cause of death in America," to stand on sidewalks outside of Planned Parenthood and scream all manner of ugly judgments at women going inside, who actually attack and kill doctors who perform abortions.

People who do these things provoke such a violent anger inside of me and such a strong hatred directed at them, that I have to ask myself, how can I learn to love such awful people?  This is the task that has been given.  Love everyone.  Even the people who have wronged me.  How is this even possible?  I just don't know.  So I start with inventing these stories.  They help for a minute.

Hatred is an ugly beast.  It quickly spreads from one person to the next.  It is like a wild fire, burning uncontrollably, fanned by provocation and reaction.  Sometimes all I can do is simply look away from the provocation in order to break the cycle of reaction...in order to lessen the grip of Hatred.

I admire Martin Luther King, Jr.  His words ring true to me.  How to walk his talk is still unclear.  But his words ring true and pierce the dense and putrid air of hatred and bitterness.  I hold his words in my heart like a banner.  My personal battle flag.

The only way to fight Hatred is with Love. I need an army of Love Warriors for backup.

~~~  

Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear; only love can do that.  Hatred paralyses life; love releases it.  Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it.  Hatred darkens life; love illumines it.      

~ Martin Luther King, Jr.