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Dear Convenience

© Genevieve Smith 2006

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Or should I say, “Despised Convenience.” Only thinking of yourself. Wanting to add to your own comfort. Not thinking about the comfort of others.

I wonder if you realized the tragedy behind your name? Convenience.

The death? The pain? The anguish? The murder? The absolute annihilation all done in your name? Convenience.

But then you were promising other things…you were promising status quo.

Then an arm was ripped off.

You were promising comfort and ease and peace.

Then a leg was seized and torn.

You were promising to conceal shame.

A scream went out.

Silent.

You were promising a solution to a problem.

The head was turned and yanked – off.

You were promising convenience.

How dare you? Liar!

I’m sorry. Maybe you were unaware. Maybe somebody lied to you.

Maybe you didn’t know what convenience was doing to me?

Or my friends.

How it ended life before breath could be drawn.

How it caused me such agony.

How it put a wedge between my mother and me.

The greatest misery of all.

Oh, Convenience. Stop giving promises while concealing all the pain.

You call me fetus.

I am more.

I am a body, a soul and a mind.

And what I think is this:

Your convenience is not of greater value than my life.

Signed,

Me
On behalf of myself and the 18,510 others who suffered the same fate as me last year here in New Zealand (not the land of my birth, but of my conception and …

death).

 

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29 June 2015

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