Otherness of the foetus.
Full many a six month I was in your womb,
My hand folded, straight I sat, aplomb,
Cosy, the blissful world would
welcome me
With affection and assured protection:
My parts were tenderly, grown,
like a blossoming Rose,
Skin was no skin, but a sponge.
Ere, woman ,how could you
wish hastily, to rip me apart?
Is it penury or bland Sophistication
that Induced you for the
Crude negation? The hard
Metallic plonk put me
In a tray, to be thrown
In a trash.
I was swept
aside by the sweeper.
Time passed on.
As shaping, reshaping
Is His document ,
God took pity on my
Predicament, breathed
Life, I am breathing
In some benign, matured,
Mother’s cosy ,kind womb.
Walls of protection
Throb with Breath. Breath.
.
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