FRUITLESS

Will this wait ever end?
Will the time ever come?
Oh my womb!
When will something sprout?

Husband calls me a slut
“You had too many abortions”
Me! But I knew no man
Until I became a bride

Mother-in-law mocks
I bear scar from her lip-whip
Even my mother says I have a husband
In the realm of the spirits

I have been whipped with brooms
Chained under the sun in shrines
How many river baths have I taken?
Elusive remains the deliverance

When will this wait end?
My younger sister’s children
Are becoming ladies
Yet my soil would let no seed sprout

When will this child come?
Is it until my soil is no more moist
And my hands are too weak
To hold the weight a child?

Written by: Oguntoyinbo Motunrayo Favour
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

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3 Comments

  1. Tunra. Remember me?

    The emotional and psychological
    trauma of Mama Ailomo, as she
    goes from pillar to post — or
    rather, from dibia to Deeper Life
    — in search of an offspring, is
    highlighted here.

    Like

    Reply
  2. Tunra. Remember me?

    The emotional and psychological trauma of Mama Ailomo, as she goes from pillar to post — or rather, from dibia to Deeper Life — in search of an offspring, is highlighted here.

    Like

    Reply

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