The still born with an heir.

_^^^^^^_
If we go by the smell of the anus,
We shall disown it,
With fresh tears lingering on our faces,
And elders gathering at our doorstep,
The young tiptoeing into the dark hut,
To behold the
face of the dead.

_^^^^^^_
Our mother is dead again,
Her chi has refused to protect her again,
The ageless still born of our father,
Who kept dreaming and refused to live.

_^^^^^^_
Shall we bury our dead in the land of the dead again,
Or shall we burn her body for her to come back again,
Cut one of her evil fingers again,
And tie her with the name Kokumo when next she comes.

_^^^^^^_
Shall we allow our mother to see the agony of the furnace again,
And allow her to dance at the cease of music,
As a payback for our constant tears,
And the repercussion of her beautiful wickedness.

_^^^^^^_
Shall we strip our mother naked,
And display her shame to the whole village,
Dedicate her sagged breasts to the beast of the evil forest,
Give her body to strange warriors,
Or abandon her body at the village square.

_^^^^^^_
What shall you say of us,
Wicked and useless children of the village stillborn,
Who will not mourn with ashes at their mother's death,
Who will not sprinkle goat's blood at her funeral.

_^^^^^^^_
Blame us not, we beseech you,
We are the dejected children of the dead,
Who have buried her stillborn mother five hundred times,
With a well sealed coffin,
But her body will always be seen on top of the mother earth,
A day after her funeral.
__________
#Songs of the morning.
#Purpose driven poets, L&D, ANA, Poetry divine.
#Oswald Caleb Bresh.