ADOPTION Without choice, I, evicted from the womb Not cast aside, despite what I would see, Too soon carried into an unknown room and gladly taken up, offsetting gloom, and soon another child, I becoming we. Without choice, I evicted from the womb was there to watch him fall into his tomb, leaving her with grief weighing heavily. Too soon carried into an unknown room she took gladly, I left to assume why my birth mother hadn't wanted me, without choice, I evicted from the womb left to imagine her face, in my gloom whispering in my dreams, "you had to be too soon carried into an unknown room, to insure you a life, that you might be more than I could offer, be truly free." Without choice, I evicted from the womb too soon carried into an unknown room. HOLDING ON There comes that one moment for each who lives when he steps out onto the silent stage, speaks such of the lines as he recalls, gives a half-intended bow, and in his rage curses his lost youth like over-aged wine, that is now a shadow of its promise and he knows that somehow this is a sign not of what he was but what he now is. In the evening mirror he doesn’t know the white bearded face that stares back at him, a far older man who hates the coming of night. He searches in vain for a way to show that the spark that once burned did not grow dim but holds even more tightly to the light.
Louis Faber’s work has previously appeared in The Poet (UK), Atlanta Review, Arena Magazine (Australia), Exquisite Corpse, Rattle, Eureka Literary Magazine, Borderlands: the Texas Poetry Review, Midnight Mind, Pearl, Midstream, European Judaism, Greens Magazine, The Amethyst Review, Afterthoughts, The South Carolina Review and Worcester Review, among many others, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.