She did not like the earth

Whenever I think of my daughter,

I ask myself why and what,

Why she decided to end the race as soon as it started,

What made her to give up the fight.

Was it the feel of black nipple that filled her toothless mouth,

That made her to lose interest in what life had to offer?

Was it the plain taste of milk that she did not like?

But is it not a well-known fact that all babies like breast-milk?

Was it the face of her father that she did not like?

A face which did not know which expression to express,

After a long night devoid of sleep,

A face that looked similar to hers,

Did my daughter despise the face of her father?

Was it the hospital ceiling that had patches of brown stains,

And the smell of H.I.V/AIDS,

That ebbed all her energy away,

And left her limbs withered?

Maybe my daughter did not like the earth,

She could not stand what awaited her,

The pain, the heartbreaks, the diseases, the war, the hunger, the disappointments,

The moment her head popped up from my dark womb,

She knew the earth was not the place she wanted to be,

She knew there and then that it was better not to be born,

Now what  am I going to do with all these milk in my breast?

(image/www.thebodyisnotapology.com)