Treasure Island

Babatunde Idowu Ebenezer


Agony Of A Mother


The cry of the child rented the air,
Its heart shattering melody aimed,
A deadly blow to the silence of the corridor,
The stillness of the premise could not
Overcome its passionate tone.
Tears became streams in her eyes,
The redness of which was
Scary enough to make
Another child burst into
Rhythmic unspoken lyrics of crying.
If it were to be tasted,
How bitter would it be?
Or nature would overcome sorrow,
And it would be salty still?
Her body gyrated to the unheared rhythm
Of unseen slowly beaten konga of fear.
Who would comfort this broken spirit?
Or which tongue would deliver,
A message of gladness
To this weary soul?
Surely not the green garmented nurse,
Who with a charming deceitful smile
Only nurses could offer,
Without betraying emotions,
Gently and slowly wrested
The child from the tight grip
Of its mother's claws
And offered an half hopeful words
Of not very certain encouragement.
How could nature be so cruel?
How could life be so unsympathetic?
Such as to subject this tiny creature,
To so such discomfort as this?
To warrant the surgeon's scapel?
Soon the garments of green,
Like a vegetable field in spring,
Would converge under the beam,
With all their scary tools.
Tools or blades?
The toys they so much cherish,
The child's abdomen would open,
Under the sharpness of Iron,
Its liver would feel
The cutting prowess of metal,
Is there a limit
Man could not reach
To heal?
Meanwhile the poor mother was left alone
In the lonely corridor
Sweating profusely on her knees.
Tears and sweats mingled with saliva
Formed a puddle on her chin.
Would the heavens be merciful,
And her prayers accepted,
So the child could live?
Such agony,
That only a mother could bear.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 24, 2013

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