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
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
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.