To the Daughter I may never have

I am sorry.

I wanted to see you and feel glee
I  wanted to kiss your chubby cheeks and walk you along with your grandmummy

I wanted to inspire you and pass on what I have learnt
I had hope to see my own woman rise past what I could not.

I am sorry I don't see your future anymore
I am sorry I cannot consider your hope

For yesterday I witnessed a hostile takeover of the body politick

It was devoured and dissolved by gluttony and greed but what fears me most is not the presence that is so overt

But the silent take over of the female world.

What terrifies me more is this subtle takeover of the female thought

Body is marked and packaged

Square in a stock market, **** your stomach in.
Little girls look at the portrait of the New American Dream
Glossy, plastic, shimmery

And I gaze on into the distance of a broken dream
Shattered is her discourse into her identity
For the idea that her body matters more than the content of her head.

I never noticed when I was sixteen
But
The body tatters and wrinkles in years
It is ideas that are limitless, expanding through the universe past every entity

The way they package the female body, silenced me.

They want to silence this requiem of dreams
Shatter my inner belief in me (and you)

I am afraid for now I see it in you, the daughter I may now never have

For I do not want you born into such a circumstance

Where your hope is *** tapes and swindles

I have never found limitation in my ******, let's make that clear.

But I have never found release in the understanding of the idea my ****** touch could matter more than my everlasting thought.

Oh, my daughter that I will now maybe never have
I’m sorry I could never see you, watch you flourish and become something great
I’m sorry I cannot bring you into a world where your opportunities are in abundance

But I am also not sorry because I learnt quickly, at 21, this world is too toxic, too polluted.

Look at my birth city, as people choke in a misty air that was created by this ****** thought
This is the physical damage and discourse.

But I also observe that
Had you been here, I could see your temptation to gaze away from this today...into the ideas of yesterday: “Why did I eat that?”

I could see you look at your limbs that let you move and dream and dance and walk to places of opportunity and see you fixate on tiny bumps and curves, not seeing them as components that make you great
But calculating the cost it would take to put them away.

They are silencing me and you
This really is serious
I feel toxic and I feel the air
The room closes in

Now I understand why I may never be able to have you

Because as I witness this destruction, xenophobia, bigotry and pain…
I still wonder if I look pretty today

To the Daughter I may never have

I am sorry.