Monday, 13 January 2014

Poem: De-birth

I’m not part of those who will eat cakes
Baked for the memorials of children
Who died their mothers’ hands at birth
Their umbilical uncut hangs: idle noose
They rigid like a broken out stump
Find distrust in the eyes of those who stare
Wondering how this little being gave hope
Each second, each minute, each hour: 40 weeks
And in one second stole the moment away
Like they came to taunt the testaments of birth

(c) Jumoke Verissimo

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