• I recently heard a woman on local radio interviewed about the impact an abortion had on her life.
This anonymous poem may give some solace to her and other women reading this who are single mothers in small villages and in places where people still point the finger. They should always remember it could happen in their own family some day.
The Prodigal Girl
Great poets have sung the beauty of home,
Its comfort, its love and its joys;
How back to place of its sheltering dome
It welcomes the prodigal boy.
They picture his father
With pardoning smile and glittering robes to unfurl;
But none of the poets thought it worthwhile
To sing of the prodigal girl.
The prodigal son can resume his old place
As leader of fashion's mad whirl,
With never a hint of his former disgrace
Not so for the prodigal girl!
The girl may come back to the home she had left
But nothing is ever the same:
The shadow still lingers o'er the dear ones bereft,
Society scoffs at her name.
Perhaps that is why when the prodigal girl
Gets lost on life's devious track;
She thinks of the lips that will scornfully curl,
And hasn't the heart to come back.
Yes, welcome, the prodigal son to his place;
Kill the calf, fill the free-flowing bowl;
But shut not the door on his frail sister's face,
Remember she too has a soul.
Ms Terry Healy
Kill, Co Kildare