Poetry: Fruit of her Womb

  Fruit of her Womb

it's still a wonder to me

the whole of your soul

you willingly offer

your bore flesh you gladly share

blood and water you pour by choice

harbouring love and hope

nourishing another being 

into a fruit of your existence

image alike; visions of your dreams

at the corner your pretty heart

hoping she has your lover's eyes

perhaps a sharp nose like your father

little fingers to hold your thumb

petite ears to hear you sing 

enthralling doe eyes to see you smiling

and cherry wine lips to call you mama

how is it possible?

that big needle piercing through your meat

bleeding in torn pain

water of your womb gushing out

like the river, oozing a part of you

yet 

your soul celebrates this being

as they laid her gently over your bare bosom

skin to skin

soft and warm in that cold room

tears ran down your blushed plump cheeks
there it is

nose as sharp as your father

little fingers fitted perfectly over your thumb

enthralling big doe eyes, just like your lover's

staring back at you 

as if you have seen her before

in your past life

and bright red cherry wine lips,

soon to call you mama

Crazy isn't

By Jessica John Posko💗