Be kinder to the tree, they say
Don’t poke or prod or cut at it
Don’t try to break its branches
Don’t run up to attack it
Be kinder to the fish, they say
Be gentle with the guppies
If caught just let it swim away
Don’t try and fish for copies
Be kinder to the little guy
Be softer, like a mother
I know you’re meant for it, they say
Helped raise your younger brother
Oh but I won’t, Oh but I can’t
Don’t want to live the horrors
I choose to not participate
To not hand out disorders
Pass down our long-lived misery
Pass down all of our karma
I choose to be a butterfly
Not trapped in my own armor
And now my future is in halves
Two choices on the table
To birth a child, or to not
I choose to not be able
Years delivered my mind, from the shadows left behind,
Darkest calamity, sucking me into the tragedy,
Feeling less like the dream I chased, like the darkness of disgrace.
Soundless images roar through my soul, creating fear, so out of control, while my heart beats, rhythmic, like the colors of woe, lifeless stillness, in the empty room where I go…
To remember the joy, the readiness, the yearning
Breath of a prayer, still burning, through my memories, as they seek to see, through me – the honesty, confessing,
To the need, the need – the seed, who was once buried in me, a piece of me, but, only for a time before life decided….
To remind me, most eloquently, where I once yearned for the blessing, - baby, child, newborn life,
Someone who would be mine – to love…
Now, the empty room remembers, as the still, cool September,
Blazes with crisp, vibrant leaves, imagining the beauty who I will never see.
In me, there is a need who’ll never find relief,
A need to reach into that empty room, see the sweetness of a cure,
For the harsh reality, who is the cloud of infertility!
Blood – rich whispers of crimson,
Like flames melting the feelings
beliefs alive, grief that spelled
Out the word – I n f e r t i l e
Infertility wrenched beauty from my life,
Erasing the stars from the night,
Darkening my heart – but I survived
Yes, I remember
I was young one day,
Yearning, aching – praying
Begging for one smile from a baby,
A smile that told me I’d been right…
Love would- love could save me
Yet, I remember
The nights, sleepless and silent,
Biding my time, tears
Flowing to remind me why
I couldn’t know the beautiful
Beneath eyes that shined
With a child’s love, a child’s adoring
Blood – dark and crimson,
Pouring out the hope, the anticipation
Pregnancy never came to me,
The girl who worried about never knowing
Throughout history, the giggling glory
Childish antics and childhood joys
I never will know the love that might have been
Mine if fate had brought to life, from my womb
The soul of an infant, a smile that sent me
From solitary confinement to the jungles of beautiful
Infertility
Is it a communicable disease?
Is it a blemish to the family?
Is it a detestable status?
Is it an inferior sort?
Is it a shameful disability?
Is it an imperfect position?
Is it a non-human prototype?
Is it a punishable crime?
Is it a reason to be isolated?
Is it a divine curse?
Is it an unholy living?
Is it an immoral sin?
Is it an incomplete existence?
Isn't it a blessing to become an adoptive parent?
Every month, ovulating
Yearning, breathing in and out
In and out, breathing – inhaling
Exhaling, panting, gasping
Yearning, begging, pleading
Please, God, please!
Every month, echoing
The past months, the years
The tears adding up, rivers
Of yearning, hopes shattered
Moons coming and going,
Hearts breaking, interrupting
The prayers for a small cry,
Every month, praying, praying
Imploring God for a child
Little eyes, small fingers, toes
To count and kiss, breathing
In and out, the prayers,
Beseeching, entreating, praying
Every month, the blood
Drenching soft linens,
Soaking like tears, softly falling
Quenching the dreams
The echoing of prayers, yearning
Hope doused, darkness all around
Optimism fading into the shadows
Every month, a heart swells with hope
Then breaks, crushed by the weight
Of silence in the nursery,
Emptiness in the arms who long
To hold a baby, a little one, a light of life!
July 4, 2022
YÉMIÍTÀN
If you would stay do stay
Please tease me no longer
My body, no more can bear
But my heart, yet still craves
My womb you make hollow
My hopes many times dashed
How can you be so heartless
With visits that never last
Yémiítàn, my precious child
This foolery is so much pain
Desist your antics my child
A mother can no longer bear
You prey on my deep desire
You tease with your to and fro
Why mock me in my despair
Àbíkú omo, òdájú ènìyàn
I know you, you little trictster
I can sense your deep longings
Too many a time have visited
To visit me yet never stay
So with cowries will I bind you
And with red dust to earth tie you
With deep marks will I brand you
And ensure you never again leave.
Infertility
Crayons on the wall, muddy feet on the floor; things that I would surely adore.
Hugs when you cried, tears that I’d wipe, loving how much that we are alike.
My beautiful princess or perhaps my young man; only my dream can understand.
I dream and I dream, but my wishes never come true; you don’t know me and I don’t know you.
Through my dream I can clearly see, how much you mean to Daddy and me.
You have his eyes and his warm touch, the things that Mommy loves so much.
You have my temper and my pride, the things your daddy seems to like.
You love to play ball and cuddle with dad, and hide from mommy when she is mad.
You don’t like bad dreams and neither do I, you sleep between us just to hide.
We hold you close and keep you tight; the boogeyman is off tonight.
Off you go to play and run, being a kid is always fun!
If only my dreams could really see, what amazing parents we could be!
I dread waking up to see what is true, no baby for us, no parents for you.
STANDING ALL ALONE
THINKING NON BUT ALL
NATURE AND DESTINY AT
ITS BEST
AT WAR BUT WHO WINS
GRIEVE NOT WOMAN
GRIEVE NOT
FOR IS THERE A REASON TO
NO SEED CAN EVER SURVIVE
IN THIS LAND
WHICH YOU’VE NURTURED
PLOUGHED AND TILTED FOR
MANY YEARS
YET NO FRUIT HAS IT EVER
BORE
STOP DREAMING THEN
STOP DREAMING
LOOK HOW YOU LIE SOUR
WITH MILK
YOUR PRIDE OF WOMANHOOD
HAS GIVEN YOU NO PRIZE
SEEDLINGS WOULD YOU
NEVER TRIM NOR PRUN
FOR MOTHER YOU WOULD
NEVER BE CALLED
WHY LET THIS EMPTINESS
RUIN YOU
AND INFERTILITY HOOT YOU
WHILE YOU SIT AND SING
THIS SONG OF MYSTERY AND
MISERY
THOUGH YOUR CALABASH IS
BROKEN
AND YOUR BAMBOO FALLEN
STAND UP AND DANCE IN
AGONY HAPPILY
FOR LIFE ITSELF IS A MIRAGE
THE MORE YOU LOOK THE LESS
YOU SEE
THEN TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTH
OF SACK
AND WEAR YOUR GOWN OF
RAFFIA AND COWRIES MADE
SHAKE TO THE TUNE
THAT LIFE PLAYS FOR YOU
COS’ ONE DAY IT WOULD ALL
END
WHEN ALL THE DRUMS WEARS
AND TEARS
AND NATURE WITH DESTINY
ALL LOSE THE GAME
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