Expression

Childbirth, an act of blase bourgeoisie- How untrue expression it stand to be With mother listening to the rhythm of her dying father's song at noon sleeping? All noted, supernatural fetishness... All written, unbelievable forgotten expression. Our Dibias are home sick without their black cats. This time, with calabashes filled with dirge Tales of childhood in African soul. Takes of their unmerited spiritual failure, nothing like the weight of a child to the palm, from hand to lap, to stop the urge from the longing lower part of the belly... Nothing taste like child bearing to a mother! In our bloodshot eyes, we glimpse the vulnerability that hide itself so well underneath our valuable eyes. Children are gold, bearing them is an experience graced perfectly by nature. Passion lies within its oasis of fate... Dreams return hope to an unpredictable womb, Child, a purposeful treasure of a home whose absent brings hurt and pains. ©John Chizoba Vincent Cam'god 2017