I woke up startled
in the middle of night
to someone kicking from inside
showing me signs of life
growing inside my womb
reminding me the woes
of a single mother-to-be.
I hid my tears in the pillows
recalling the hey days,
but now left alone to endure
the shame, the pain, I brought home.
“Will you kill the baby if I gave it to you?”,
The doctor had asked
signalling me to the table.
I looked down ashamed, speechless.
Every check up was yet another ordeal,
adding insult to injury.
Two days thus went by,
Taking in medicines and mortification
until blood stained my bed sheets.
Turning my womb into a grave,
The baby had gone.
“Murder, murder”, my soul cried.
I writhed and seethed
as the pain came and went.
Thus I lay on the table
under the cold glare of the nurses
flinging me with questions
of morale and chaste.
I felt something moving inside
I clenched and unclenched my muscles
as the pain excruciated my veins.
Fuming like a volcano,
a ball pierced my flesh
with a mad gush of blood.
I opened my eyes
to an emptiness of some sort
remembering the glimpse I had
of the baby in my womb.
Five months in my womb,
the baby had grown
nature made him “a boy”
With closed eyes and folded hands
that perhaps prayed for mercy.
“Murder, murder”, my soul cried.
They fight for your life
They may mourn your death
But never will they accept you
You who has no father,
No legitimacy, no identity.
I can never bear to see it,
Your life as a “Jack nobody”
Yes, I did it for you!