For Rebecca Masika Kasuva.
let’s assume it wasn’t flies
buzzing all around you,
let’s imagine it being children
of mothers you saved but still had to die
with those children still inside them.
let’s agree to call you a light,
no, the sun, for heaven does know loss
gloomier than darkness when you ceased to shine.
you stopped counting at 22.
and when you rose,
puss and blood trickling your thighs
you showed us how to be strong.
us motherchildren found mother
navigating the water flow down your heart.
when blood rejected us,
yourself being a reject, you accepted us.
we remember the church got tired of you,
and men tired of Jesus too, though you were no God
he lived inside you. you were rainbow after the storm.
we watched you row us in a little haven called boat,
life threatening to drown us.
they returned to rape you.
and somehow you won,
every semen providing you strength to surge further.
they had rot for seeds, and you were earth, mother
and with plants, life only starts from rot,
and you let it grow into beautiful flowers of compassion
regardless of how ugly the past had been,
and we woke up daily to the petals of your affection,
us children, us mothers of children, ourselves children.
Tell me what you think guys.