By Gladys Gachanja
Green with deep desire.
Desire to carry her own seed.
Hearts heavy like thunder.
Heavy with cruel insults hurled at her for not being a complete woman.
Shunned by families and friends, male and female alike all turned to foe.
How does one cope all alone in this cold empty world,
Not a shoulder to lean on, afraid to cry so they can see how their insults cut deep,
She shivers from the cruelty and unkindness arising from loved ones.
All because she is unable to carry her own child.
What did she do to deserve this punishment?
The rising sun each day awakening her to her weakness as a woman,
Another day trying to prove to everyone she is a woman like any other.
Deemed not marriageable, she is more of a man than a woman according to society.
"What is the use of a woman if she cannot sire her own child," they say in hushed tones.
Holding her head high like a tower, my womb does not define me! she tells herself. She is
more of a woman than you know.
She will not allow the coldness of society to fill her heart.
She yearns for the slightest shred of comfort and love on those terrible lonely days.
How can people who claim to be so human treat her like she is from a different kind?
An explosion of emotions fills her heart when she sees the tiny feet of children running
around, eyes wide with excitement and sheer innocence, unaware of how cruel the world can
be to your weaknesses.
Tears only her pillow knows, shed from the emptiness and sorrow only one so innocent as a
child can wipe.
Wounds running deep as gulley’s, filled with nothing but darkness and unsaid words.
It is funny how the absence of something is the heaviest to carry.
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