Welcome to Word Play Wednesday!
Word Play Wednesday is a weekly feature of written and spoken word poetry. I will be sharing my written and spoken word poems in addition to poems by other wonderful Poets both past and present. If you are interested in sharing some of your poetry, feel free to buzz me and we can work something out.
I hope that you enjoy reading and listening to our thoughts, feelings and rants and in many ways relate to some of them.
Enjoy!
This week I will be sharing a poem I recently wrote while listening to one of Hollie Mcnish’s poems in her book I recently read (Slug) about the process of labor during child birth. I was instantly inspired to write this poem because it took me back to my experience of child birth and the emphasis many people on this side of the world (both men and women especially of the Christian faith) put on women to have a normal delivery instead of a C-section as if those who go through C-sections are lesser beings or are not holy enough. I hear when women pray that they want to deliver like the Hebrew women in the bible and I have no problem with that as long as your baby is not too big for your birth canal or is bridged or doesn’t have any complication that warrants an elective or emergency C-section. As a mother who has never experienced a normal delivery because I opted for an elective C-Section, I have never felt like I am less of a mother or I have missed anything at all. I have heard stories of many women who have lost their lives or their babies because they refused to go in for a caesarean birth due to shame and I want every woman to know that it doesn’t make you less of a mother especially if your doctor has advised that this would be the safest way for you and your baby to survive. I hope this poem will would help to change this mentality.
Hebrew Woman
For those who barely lie on
their backs
And yet quickly conceive,
Perhaps,
They are Hebrew.
For those who have to lie on
their backs
Before they can carry to term.
Perhaps,
They are not Hebrew.
For those whose waters break
on time
And then out comes the baby.
Perhaps,
They are Hebrew.
For those who wait for their
waters
To be broken under the knife
Perhaps,
They are not Hebrew
But for those who carry a bundle
of joy or two
At the end of it all.
Surely,
They are all mothers!
-Biyai Garricks
Copyright © Biyai Garricks
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