Black Maria's Child

It's dark here
Bleak dark
Very, very dark.

Here, I'm a frail foetus
Conceived of an action
Cuffed to these walls
Chains for umbilical
Soon to be born.

My joints ache, to random spasms
Out of my apparent convictions, to action
From here, it's 9 minutes to labour
When I shall be born 
to my doctor's judgment
Of prejudice,
Or on mercy and favour.

My mother is black
And her name is Maria
Despite my violent tantrums,
She still has chosen to be my carrier
Taking me to where I shall meet destiny
And the powers of divine or designed law
Shall then, manifest in me
Sending me...

from this womb, to boom
or from this womb, into the walls of a tube—another womb
and if the Doctor happens to be in a bad mood

I will be transplanted into another womb.

The tomb.


© Abdulrazaq Adebola "REZthapoet" Afolabi. All rights reserved. The contents of this page may not be copied or reprinted, either physically or electronically, without permission from the author. For more information, contact REZthapoet.