Birth-Re-Birth
“Why, oh why? ”
Fetus talked
Raised the voice as if shout.
Mom to be, fallen jawed
Too scared; looked around
No one there but herself.
She alone…
“You recall men-women life order? ”
“You recall patriarch at home, out? ”
“You recall with spank beating child? ”
“You recall Jack London’s animals? ”
She listened watching wall
And mirror
And window
And outside
No one there; but herself.
“All legal and have rights”
“But not I.”
“Tell me why? ”
“Selfishly for your fun”
“You made me; and my rights? ”
The table is oval
Six people sit around.
At its head magician,
Written-sheets and papers,
Room is large; Rectangle.
Painting with decor walls
Mainly red; Sharp colors
The Van Gogh’s Exorcist, magical
Correcting; he repeats
Anishnawbe language
Easy is giving birth to fetus.
Re-birth of a martyr is too hard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem