The Cull

A ghost of a babe

my dear brother

older but not ever born

the cull, he called me

not yet one

but we played every day

upon the shadows we danced

he’d go away when anyone glanced

not our place we were told

not to be together cautioned the old

separated by planes of existence

only to share within dreams

the mother called the church

the put up candles and performed prayer over me

I was genuinely ill and was virtually taken to join brother

but then there was the call of another

back in the white walled room

filled with medicos

machines breathing for me

lungs failing , beeping all around

tubes within me

I glance to my side

a diminutive girl next door

already ghosted

she screamed hold on

you will stay

they need you

you are the culled one.

beeping subsided

I lay not yet one in this white cold cradle

while the diminutive girl’s beeps went fatal

I was made simply to be