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africa, allegory, analogy, bereavement, betrayal, daughter, simile,
Of Daughters and Aborted Liberties…
My ravished womb drips
precious blood of incestuous rape;
the ghosts of my daughters scream
from shared graves
marked with vaginal blood
shed by sons drunk
on the wine of intoxicating power.
Mislead adolescent warriors
fan holocaust embers
scorching time tested hopes
gone to ashes
as death winds strike chimes
of ebony genocide;
and the cradle and the grave
stand juxtaposed to each other.
My desperate screams
reverberate off once listening ears
and ricochet into the void silence
of a newsworthy footnote:
caught in the cobwebs of history
my aborted blood of liberty flows
like the meandering Nile.
death, introspection, loss, sad,
Contained in what’s so fragile, could break,
And soaked to preserve its state.
But why prevent its being defaced?
It was wanted dead, in the first place.
Defenseless, it was so deprived
The right to choose, to live, to die;
Borne, by fate, by whose heart was stone,
And dead before it was born.
I waited beneath her rib cage
why I already knew everything about her
she knew nothing of me I was being cradled
with warmth guided from a serene light
reflecting inward from the roundness
of her womb the day was long my veins hurt
as blood ran warm through vessels connecting
herself to mine she felt empty I was filled with life
through a strong force I was rushed beneath her
as my soul floated above the both of us oh how I
longed for her as she was my song
I guess I was her wrong
I wonder why
It’s a pity that
You didn’t even
Give me a chance
To call you, ‘Mother’.
Should I thank you,
For not bringing
Me into this
Or should I
Hate you for
In your womb.
I wish even
If you had
A chance to
Like you in