Daily she hummed her favourite unknown tune <br />laboriously she scooped morsels of bean cakes <br />in skillful similar proportions into the sizzling oil <br />in the frying pan on a clay hearth emitting smoke <br />blinking tears she stocked the embers of the fire <br />to lessen the spirals of blinding thick black smoke <br />as frightened termites scrambled from the woods <br />to escaped the inevitable death in the cruel flames <br /> <br />Ola, the hectic mother of half a dozen stunted kids <br />sold delicious bean cakes to all hungry passersby <br />to put meager food on the table for her large family <br />while her lazy husband roamed the street scouting <br />for inexistent menial jobs scanty enough for a gulp <br /> <br />tired nights drawn her protests in wet muffled cries <br />to fight powerlessly against her husbands insistence <br />for a piece of pinkish plunge add more hungry mouths <br />her cries, pleas fell on deaf ears until she took in again <br />but this time around she wasn’t that lucky to wean kid <br />on the long way to the midwifery she died with a sigh <br /> <br />man’s inhumanity to man starts from the nuclei home <br />when brutes with ill animalistic tendencies dominate <br />wallow in the stupid aphorisms of “it’s a man’s world” <br />but what cruel world is that so insensitive to changes <br />which is the only permanent phenomenon in lifetimes <br />that wreaked so much pains and sorrows to women <br />and bring death to women that brought them to life? <br />if humans are driven by physical appetites rather than <br />spiritual needs then let Father’s Day be scrapped <br />and extol instead Birth Dead Mother’s Day to mourn <br />the dearth of compassion in compunction of mortality. <br /> <br />Written by <br />Dela Bobobee©<br /><br />Dela Bobobee<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dead-birth-mothers/
