Wild Fruits Poem by Victor Okechukwu Anyaegbuna

Mothers get so pained seeing their children cry
They guard their loins ready to fight
And die to pamper their old babes.
They starve to give their angels cheer
Soil their hands and clear pooh without a hoot.

Yet, out there are other beautiful ones
There from the womb of other women
Whom inequalities of life and dearth of love has so strangled and impoverished
That they dare street predators to survive;
Estranged with plates and palms begging.
Palms for alms, plates for crumbs and coins that rattle to force laboured smiles.
You enslave them, consign them to vendors for inglorious labour, maltreat, indignify;
They watch you revel in transient earthly paradise with yours whom destiny
elevated to a future point unknown.
And they're all dreams, dreams and dreams
Flavoured with hidden tears, red swollen eyes
That seen even incurs more wrath
But suicide is as easy as a five star meal.

When babes become sacred
Unequal motion from repentant wombs
Strive to compete but end up serving
Peers, underlings mounted on privilege;
Shoes with tall heels that threaten fractures
Where dreamy admirers pray for feet.

Mistress of labour offers no choice
For enchanting struggles and feelings
Cut short by man-made eternal woes;
But spoils her own on manifest hate
Of other humanity, named lust for blood
That differed and dithered at no prompt
But creative mastership of Nature's romp
And ignorance of the semblance of fate.
Today, sloth is my gain but tomorrow sorrow and envy set the pace
In a world doomed to deep sleep
While the cycles run unhindered.

9 September,2017