The town is lonely, inhabitants are peasants
Peasants that watched nutrients made escape from their dishes
While finances slept in king sized mattresses
Daughters birthed their mothers
And sons fed fathers.
Laughing tents and smiling windows
Part ways for singing mosquitoes
Malaria and cholera were married couples
Couples that visited whenever they wanted to
Leaving diarrhea and skin rashes to spend weekends.
Decontee’s palm juice had dried
She had no idea that she’s missed her time
One out of Wesseh’s millions sperms
Had found rest in the arms of her fertile eggs
She was to bear the calabash for nine full moons.
Soon it was passed nine full moons
Midwifery’s room was quiet and cold
Decontee’s water bag was burst
She was backed by open arms of woven clothe
Hungry and tired she’d come to be delivered
Then I was born into exile.
Life was fair since it was what I came to know
Grateful for what I had even though it wasn’t nature’s glow
I was happy I had a home
A home that I thought as mine
But answer the name exile
Stranger in the land of my birth?
People who are mine but didn’t know my worth?
Home I thought it was but it wasn’t my own.
My own was in the distance that I did not know.
I was born a stranger into exile.
@ThemmyWryt
T