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Feb 2020 · 136
In The Eyes of The Unborn
Latoya Bethune Feb 2020
I wonder what it’s like from above.
When God looks down on the ones he loves.
As they destroy his priceless creation;
without a proper form of explanation.
With souls of grey and a heart that’s cold;
another innocent soul gone with a story untold.

I wonder if my life mattered.
Or was that the reason why my life you shattered.
I wonder if I wasn’t good enough.
Or was the thought of my existence making life tough.

On the clouds my spirit lay.
Watching my helpless body being ripped away.
From my silver eyes  to my golden feet;
each part goes with a fading heartbeat.

A carnival of guns loaded with fears.
Soldiers of sins surround me holding their spears.
Despite the hurt, frustration and endless pain;
In knee city, for you I hope and pray.
Though on  my heart you left an irremovable stain,
my wish is that  the others behind me get a chance to stay.

By Latoya Bethune
the above poem is based on the religious perspective on abortion. the persona used imagery to depict the cruelty of abortion
Feb 2020 · 168
The Golden Shoes
Latoya Bethune Feb 2020
A quick throwback to the good old days,
Way back into your youthful phase.
Where the sky was always your limit.
And hard work and determination
That was the only way.

Back where our feelings we need not hide,
And our smiles on our faces were real.
For some it was an easy ride
While some went days without a meal.
Life probably threw a lot your way.
I'm still young I cannot say.
Nevertheless you're here today
Some still agile While some
complain about the aches.
Oh!
The good old youthful phase  

Now that you're all elderly
It doesn't mean your wise
thoughts the world don't need.
For me you're the light that helps us see.
The beauty in all humanity.

The older you grow the wiser you get.
And our elders are living proof
The lessons of life was well thought
In good ways and bad ways too
But as you grew you learnt from them
I'm pretty sure that's true,
As life continues for me and you
I hope my generation follow the footprints
Of your golden shoes.
the poem speaks about the journey of our elders. it's a tribute to the elderly.

— The End —