WHO WILL BURY THE BABY?

 

I knew she was going to die when we had her.
No we didn’t kill her, they did.
Her pregnancy was the easiest, but they made it hard-
The running, the screaming, the pranks.
You missed most of it during those late nights.
I don’t blame you for you had to work harder. For us.
Who should I blame though? Me? They?
You said you wanted 2, I said 0.
We had 3.
Welcome to Africa! My mother said as she laughed.
She was still baffled that I remained slim after them.
So, she sought other ways to make me miserable,
A payback for her lost years of beauty.
But our little one made up for it.
Suitcases were packed with precious things,
From the day we were told it was going to be a girl.
She made up for the distress we felt at the increase of our family.
I once heard that as a parent you never rest,
From your child’s first breath until the last.
Still, I read more than I listen.
A character in a book vocalized the anxieties
Of keeping his child out of harm’s way. Oh! The struggle.
The child’s death was a relief,
An affirmation to the worst that could happen has happened.
So, we had another.
Then I read of a couple who had 2 boys.
They liked to play at the lake by their house.
Even on thin ice, they will skate.
When it broke and the older fell inside,
Amidst tears and yells, the younger ran for help,
But stopped once he got close to the house
Counted 5 minutes then called his mother.
That was how he killed his brother.
So now you understand my premonition,
None of our boys had killed each other.
I should have known to handle her with more caution.

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