Friday poem

Stages - A poem

When I was in my mother’s belly, they battered her stomach down
(they had wished for a boy and my mother said it was a girl)
When I was a toddler, they tried to kill me
(my father went into a rage the time I knocked over a vase)
When I was a child, they used a crude scissor at my clitoris
(it bled a lot, but the ceremony was successful)
When I turned a teenager, I was gang raped once
(I did complain, but the policeman did not believe me)
When I finally got married, I was raped again.
(this time at least it was within the confines of marriage)
When I had my first child - a girl, I was mildly tortured
(a year later, thank god; I was blessed with a son)
When I had grandchildren, my children would curse me
(my son bellowed about medical costs - thank god I was partly deaf)
Now I am have withered and wrinkled and am ready to go away
(thank you, lord - I am so ready).

Skies over Staten Island on a cold morning of 16 Feb 2009