WEEP WITH WE by S. A. David

Category: ode, free verse

Have you seen my mother?
I weep; they laugh; you
Will weep  and pity, perhaps.
A blue blooded damsel,
Loved and respected by
The Germanics

To a fault, hospitable
Til her guests bounded her;
With strong, strong strings.
Tears embraced her
Beautiful face. Her
Big bold body bounded; beaten

I weep as her pains
I feel.
Her wealth looted
By the lionic lambs.
Helpless she was
Just as Darwin predicted

Her eden plundered
Her parents pulled
Off the ground.
Like a scorpion
She was.
Tears inevitable, I weep.

Forced to marry this man
That now is my father
A strange man from
Parched lands.
A gold digger,
Grateful to these lambs

Weep with we; she became
A slave
In her very own palace.
Washing the feet
Of her erstwhile
Subjects

She invoked Jesus
To rescue her bosom
Her bosom which
I sucked.
How nutritious it was.
Her warmth inviting

Daddy befriended Kudirat
The mother of his god
To consolidate his
Dug up fortunes.
Happiness, since then
Eluded mama; weep with we.

Mummy crafted many epistles
To the lionic lambs
Please in peace, exeunt
My palace.
Daddy entreated them;
Ignore her rants, stay.

Weep with we you all
Father is traitor
Traitor! Traitor! Traitor! But
Jesus granted mummy’s novena;
Mummy was returned her palace.
Dad, happy, unhappy and scheming.

Papa usurped mama’s
Inheritance.
Imposed his laws on
Mummy’s kingdom.
Confiscated many of her
Hard earn’d monies

Dad’s extended family
Gave in to
Cliques and divisions.
Mom’s followed suit
And for years we drank
Mary’s water.

Boom boom boom
Kingdom torn apart
Jostling, everyone,
For a portion.
My cousins were
Wounded.

Thorns stuck into their
Failing flesh.
Powders pushed into
Their private parts,
Just to consolidate the
Control of their tributes

These lionic lambs
Aside, sat.
Watched. Indifferent.
Interested.
In adultery alone.
My mother’s bosom they lust

Have you seen my father?
I hate him not
I love him not
Neither indifferent
He loves no Jesus
And I have no faith in Kudirat

Once in every gregory
We gather for their
Marital anniversary
And many my brothers
Eat oxygen only
And my sisters; sleep in funny farms

Many my siblings,
We sing bollywood hymns
And simultaneously play in Chinese
Yet they sacrifice
Us
To the goddess of blood

Mama cries every
Dawn
Father Chris gives us
Hope
And Jesus stares us in the
Face

Father and his favorites
Say we must emulate.
Mother carefully crafts;
Lifting the olive stick.
Yet, undecided.
Deal, broken.

God weeps
Mummy bankrupts
By the day.
Once a Forbes woman;
Borrowing
Tender from babies

Weep weep weep
Weep up floods
Mama is frail
And weak
Bishop Chris’ divisions
Numbering and dividing

Mummy will never
Be happy
Whitney told her
Houston epistled me
Divorce is the key.
Serve him the papers.

Have you seen my mother?
Preach it to her. Sing it to her.
Divorce.
Rather be alone than unhappy
Divorce.
Divorce?