Chamber Pot Soul
They were impoverished.
Boys were always more cherished.
So, the birth of a girl did not bring smiles.
What a girl did bring were many options.
All of them heart-twisting and desperate.
To lay the babe on a trash heap outside of town
seemed cold and harsh, they reasoned.
Wild beasts might painfully finish her off.
Tossing her to the frothy fangs of the Yangtze,
she might get battered into painful death.
They thought about putting a hand over her little mouth
but neither had the heart to do such a thing.
They could gently place her in the chamber pot and seal off the top.
At the very least, it would be dark and quiet.
But any pot would forever be a constant reminder.
They finally decided, like millions before, to place her in a basket.
Perched high in the arms of a tree.
Her last day or two would be spent amidst birdsong.
Gently kneading her soul into prayer wheels.
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