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'I Give Birth To My Rapist, Murderer, Domestic Abuser' by Jhana Marc-Peterkin

Updated: Oct 7, 2021

I give birth to a man

Who rapes,

But not just me,

Only the thing

He wants:

The hole to fill his void,

The soul to re-heel

His shoe,

Make him stand

Not fall;

That line; that lie

Is all I’m entitled

To.

I give birth to this man,

I give birth

To the terror of this,

I give birth to this man

His reign mean,

Am I ever to weather

This storm?

I give birth to this man.


I give birth to the man

Who kills

Me,

The irony

Absurdity

It flaws me,

That child,

Nine months,

Miscarried,

Yet no one sought

To warn me,

The trials set,

Perils met,

This dead child

He haunts me,

Taunts and hunts

His trophy, me,

I give birth to this man

The one who wants

To dress me

In bruises and threats

He drowns me,

I give birth to this man,

I carry the rib,

The one God used

To cage me,

Hold me down

Let them break

Me,

I give birth to this man.


I give birth to a man

Who beats me like

A drum,

Warns me make

No sound;

His kicks,

They fly me to the

Ground,

Let me play among

The worms,

Why in my grave

Must I only rest

In peace?

Where’s my life?

You know which

One,

The one for which

My mother

Birthed me,

Not the one

You groomed me.

I give birth to these men.


I give birth to these men,

The sainted ones

Who hate me.

Me!

I bleed in birth

As I bleed in death,

Take one last breath,

In the name of the son

Who owns me.

Me! The loyal slave

Who nursed you?

Child,

When did I

Give you

The right

To fuck me?

My love

So cruel

To blind me.

I give birth to these men.

Me!


I give birth to you,

The man,

The head honcho,

I give birth to you,

Even in my prison

Cell,

Society,

Where the bar is low,

Set in legal law,

Manmade,

Man swayed,

All I know

Is

I give birth to you,

The man,

I give birth to you.


I give birth to you,

This,

A man,

A religious,

Righteous

Indignant thing,

My God,

You’re far too weak

To make it

Sow,

Your world,

A womb that

Does not grow,

Your love is not global

Or

Warming,

I give birth to this man,

Still,

And with all

The warning

Signs,

I give birth to you.


I give birth to this

Man,

Who chokes,

Hangs

And bangs,

Shoots but never

Scores,

Those I keep,

Every time

He bites

Me,

Breaks his bond

My bone,

Contention

Gone,

He loves to punch

The air,

Brag:

I am vanished

Never

Really there,

Figments of

Imagination,

Dolls

To be played,

Submit

In silence,

Invisibility

Cloaked,

Voiced male

Choice male,

No face

No teeth

No spleen

How am I

To stand?

Where am I

To lean?

Take refuge from

This accepted

Sin?

I give birth to this

Man

Who executes

My death

For fun,

A sport for kings,

A woman’s life

When will

She begin?

I give birth to these men.


I give birth to these,

Men, really?

Hungry

For land

Upon the

Moral

High

Ground,

Paralleled

With God’s

Right hand?

A blasphemous

Joke, right?

Women,

You woke?

Fight!

We give birth to these men.


We give birth to these men,

Their strength

It lies,

Beneath,

Release your

Umbilical

Noose…

Loose…

I dream:

A cord

That does not

Bind,

My kingdom

For

Accord,

That place,

I cannot

Find,

Mine Holy

Land

To savour,

On which

You build

Each

Unlawful

Settlement,

Break

God’s

Sacred

Command,

Meant.

Am I not

Your neighbour?

Where’s

My love,

Equal to

My ‘saviour’?

Yes, I give birth to these men.


We give birth to men,

But soon

Their day will come

Toll bells,

Sing:

Women give birth for you

Women give birth to you.


I give birth to you,

Oh mice of men,

With all your

Best-laid

Plans,

I breathe life,

Not your mate,

Nor wife.

Heed my words,

Your way

Will never come

Around,

You cannot steal

This ground,

Not even in

Your science

Lab,

Our bodies

On your

Butcher’s slab.

Frankenstein,

You’ll never

Have the balls

To raise a

Holy Mary,

Make a Shelley,

Be.

So here

I cut

Your tale

With my

Carving

Knife:

She is the one

Who always carries he.


Copyright © 2018 Jhana Ruth Marc-Peterkin

#NationalPoetryDay

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