Mandela
The look on your face
when I asked for my uterus,
made me laugh-
loud and garishly,
seriously damaging
my chances of
burying you with honor.
Irrevocably linked to
my youth,
sexuality
my true inner self.
First home of my babies,
it had been damaged early
hurt often by men
without the gift of consent.
Now on the eve of its’ demise,
I wanted to be the last one
to touch
my Womb.
You made me sit in cold offices
a peculiarity, I was made to
explain why my uterus
was important
to Me.
Perhaps if it were your sacred
testicles
tou might understand my Loss.
The last remnant of my fecund self
now lies decaying, nurturing
a great Cedar tree.
Fertilizer
for another chance at Life.
