Birthed. Beautiful and healthy.
You! Cause of such joy and mirth.
The friends and family are here to celebrate.
Welcome! O newly born. Welcome to the
animus place called earth. You are welcome to
the place where heaven and hell overlaps but how for do!
Two years on, hmmm! The never-ending sigh of gnashing parents.
OPD's and ER's have become a daily destination.
Daily you cry. Poor child, why do you cry so?
Plump you were at birth, now all boney and fragile as jelly.
Such powerful and ear piercing wails you have.
Where you get the strength for it I wonder distressfully.
But how for do!
Ah! There they come. The cold blooded medicine man in his white cover cloth,
and that over-plump lady in apparel green and white.
One gaze at their cynical smile and hope dwindles speedily as
punctured helium filled party balloon hissing "pssssss" as it gets depleted.
Berated publicly, the bomb finally drops. Sickle celled. Permanently branded.
Poor Child! How for do!
Ten years on. Among friends, you are the ostracized one.
She is not strong they whispered. Don't go near else She'll bring only trouble.
They whisper yet more. Pity plastered on their faces, the assumptions.
A walking time bomb! The phrases reverbs deep within their psyche.
Your fate already sealed by their reckoning
So how for do!
Twenty years on. A miracle! You being alive finding what
little joy you can amongst the many pain-filled days.
Defying all odds, you fight to survive. Miracle tale you rebrand.
Hold on though for as life happens love must happen.
On the unveiling, many fled. Scared witless but could you blame them?
Yet again an unbelievable coincidence! One brave knight stayed.
The one, who dared, cared and loved without effort.
Alas! The fanfare, the wedding bells, all finally over.
The reality of an uncertain future sinks in.
Which poor soul will you also condemn next?
But how for do!
Topic(s) of this poem: death, experience, sickness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.