Voice to the Voiceless
Fortune Nwaiwu
Allowing swarming , uncivilised hoodlums To abuse me mercilessly , To inject me with that crop of melon . Where are those who would rescue me ? For I ’ ve been raped by the macro-organism , The custodians of our culture .
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( Spoken by the Widower ) You can avoid it , And break away from another problem . You can kill the crop of melon in you And then the land will leave you .
The crop of melon will be a sacrifice to the gods , And ever after , they will aid you . Why should you choose to produce a bastard , To people this island of sorrow ? Why choose to be a mother of shame ? Have you seen the height from which you ’ ve fallen Because of just one sin custom forbids ? Can you see how your life is ebbing away Since you were banished to the island ? See how your eyeballs have clouded over , Your breasts now withered Like a grass in a hot desert . See how your blonde hair has oscillated Like swarming bees . Which eyes can see you now without pouring down A gallon of tears ? Which eyes can see and recognise you now ? What hands could gently touch your skin