It is not pain I feel. This tight trembling and disintegrating of spirit and soul is not pain.

It is not regret that I feel. Those memories and moments shuffling between the sheets of my mind could be described as anything but regret.

Perhaps, it is anger that I feel. Anger at a system that refuses me full autonomy over my flesh and any contents therein. Anger at a system that should have better things to do than persecute me for not wanting to bring an innocent child into their world – to die…from hunger, gunmen, men who take, women who fake. These should be their main preoccupations yet under my bloomers you will find them with their magnifying glasses as the land runs red and dread.

Or maybe, it is disappointment. Religion has let me down; my parents have failed me; and my friends don their wigs and robes to judge.

Oh! It may be shame that I feel. Hiding this story of mine high above the clouds where only the most elevated may reach it because they don’t shame, or do they?

It is relief that I feel. Like a deep, satisfying inhale of sweet mountain air after a marathon run. I cannot afford diapers; I may buy more gin than baby formula, but should it matter? What criteria must I fulfil to feel release and justified in my choice?

Is it joy that I feel? Am I glad that I don’t have to worry for the lack of support system, the father who is already absent before I could exhale in orgasm or the evaporation of the dreams I hold?

I did not want it. I may have loved it but that is questionable because I fear I know not love itself. I chose and now I am stuck, trying to find a placeholder for these feelings that I think I should have.

Pain, regret, anger, disappointment, shame, relief, joy, confusion, and uncertainty? I am allowed all— same as I should be allowed my choice.

So, I am sprawled here, cushioned by the Caribbean Sea, shaded by the sun’s rays above and somewhere…out there…on the shore there is guilt waiting to climb into this knapsack of emotions.

My tears meet the sea in a salty family reunion, my chest heaves and sighs with the heaviness of it all, and I think to sink with this hamper to the midnight depths…down, down, down, deep, down.

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