A Child Not A Bride

A blissful morning to the rest,
But to her the beginning of sorrow.
The entire village was present
To escort a young girl
To her place of bondage.
She had cried her eyes out.
Asking to be freed from this curse;
This glorified slavery called culture.
But her tears were only to be seen,
Not considered.

He would come just after nightfall,
With an Ankara tied to his waist
To claim his dues.
But who could blame him?
He has paid for it.
Only that he enjoys
While another suffers.

All she has ever wanted
Is to be seen as Elédùmarè’s creature.
To be like the other gender
Flourishing at will.
Not like a commodity
To be sold to the highest bidder.

All she wants
Is a chance to blossom.
Not to warm the bed
Of her father’s mate.
But that’s only a dream.
A thought that disappears
With the wind.

The day of pain comes,
The anguish that tears her soul apart.
Physicians say she cannot handle it.
Her body is not just ripe.
They cut her open,
Just in time
To save the bundle of joy.

A cry fills the room,
A new life is welcomed.
Another victim of the
God-forsaken culture.
A tear drops from her eyes
Not of joy
But of pain
Mixed with fear of the unknown.

With determination in her heart
To protect this new life.
From animals in form of humans,
From curse in form of blessing.
She runs
With her bundle of joy,
Strapped to her bossom
Never to look back.

A new life is all she wants,
For her and her bundle of joy.
Going through
Harsh realities of life
And getting weak in herself.
Her strength is restored
At a look at her bundle of joy.
With renewed hopes for a future
One she didn’t get to have.
Because they didn’t realize
That she was a child,
Not a bride.