Dishonored Womb Poem by Hannington Mumo

I stretch from distant shores to far-off climes,
My bounty you cannot measure in a stretch;
So welcome and walk on my belly as you survey
The gems and mementos you may want to fetch.

I’m the cradle of the scurrying mammal kind,
The source of the pompous modern breath;
I hold the priciest in my colonized bosom –
All the balms you need for life and health.

I’m the mother of six full-grown daughters
But now that they are grown to consenting height,
They mock and laugh at my backward ways,
And the finger that fed them they deride and bite.

I have no use for the gold nuggets you chase
Nor any need for the diamonds you crave,
For I know not how to fashion a plane or a car,
The inabilities that make you think I’m a slave.


Come, trample and plunder your mother’s belly
And kill the spritely womb from which you came,
Because age is about to execute her anyway,
For she’s old and confined and lame.