Poetry / The Unwanted Son

Cut off, severed and removed
Amputated from the sky
Isolated, disconnected and disproved
Waiting in a cylinder, to die.

It was daddy’s fault, he danced in the chamber
Spinning, leaping in a dauntless way
Pouring water into a reservoir
That would be a mother the next day.

There was no barricade to hold back the moisture
So that when the dance became wild
There was nothing to restrain
The stem from becoming a child.

A tiny embryo, waited for life in the dark
Unaware of the threatening doom
He was oblivious to the danger he faced
So he danced despite the gloom.

Buried deep inside the body of another
His spirit connected to the nerves of his mother
His body encapsulated within her own
All blood her blood, each bone her bone.

Until he was sliced away
Into a different shape and portion.

Incised. Lacerated. Ripped. Slit.
Chopped. Culled. Sliced. Split.
Edited out of the womb.

Axed. Reduced. Truncated.
Ostracised to an unlikely tomb.

The man left her clammy, dank and humid
Wet, soggy and hollow
She couldn’t flaunt her flood of fears
So she was forced to swallow all her tears.

Dejected, morbid and depressed,
She gripped at her empty nest
Feeling torn, she murmured sadly,
“I’ve removed the best part of me.”

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