Son of Fate

Sired in a thrust of lust
And conceived in an act of violence
After momma’s innocence was r(e)aped
By the wicked sickle of a marauding male
Family. Friends. Society
All bayed for my blood
Long before I was born;
“Kill this devil in disguise
Smash this seed sowed in shame
And escape a lifetime of blame”
They chanted
Still a hapless and innocent zygote
Squirming playfully in the joys of birth waters
I was ignorant of the raging contest
Between the word and the world
Debating whether I should live or die;
The doctors diagnosed me a health hazard
Claiming that I would be mommas trauma forever
And the route to her premature doom
Since she couldn’t bear me to birth
So like a tumour or dead limb
I was to be chopped off from her maiden womb
And the cadaver condemned to pigswills
But momma was hell-bent on bailing me out
At the price of her innocence and pride of place
They dragged her to a backstreet medic
Laid her on a bare bed
And maliciously parted her youthful thighs
The quack in white cloak assembled his arsenal;
Blood stained blades, crotchets, scalpels and spatulas
The clatter of which made me kick in fear
Though I would have feebly resisted the metallic poke
Disturbing my rest in the watery nest
The life bubble would have burst
Pushing me outta momma’s belly
With all the potential talents in my genes
Nipped in the bud
And flashed away like a piece of shit
But momma found her senses
Just before the homicidal sacrifice
And in a swift show of will
Wrestled away her captors and fled
Sparing me the agony, terror and fate
That befalls many of my ‘unwanted’ kind
But the world was determined in its dark quest
To deny me the joys of life beyond the amniotic fluid
Hence my people declared me an abomination
As they roared ‘Yes’ to my pre-natal crucifixion
But Momma came to my rescue
With a firm ‘No’ against my execution
For which they drove her out like an outcast
But even with only a heartbeat and hope to hold
The world couldn’t kill her dream
Of turning me from a scar of her traumas
To the star of her triumphs
Hence despite the “Son of Shame” tag
I purposefully popped out
Tiny pink fists tightly clenched