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Upon the altar of culture
Lies a little lady lamb
With nothing to make her numb
For the impending genital butcher
The band of women holding her down
Is singing a circumcision song
Urging her to be strong
For her ‘womanhood’ is about to dawn
They pull her skirt north
Drag her panties south
And push her legs apart
To expose her private part
The lady with the rusty knife
Chops and skins her genital life
She grimaces and wriggles like mad
As her flesh yields a pool of blood
A wish for death crosses her head
She was warned against screaming
But the pain is so searing
That she shrieks till her face turns red
Her mother clamps her mouth tight
“Hush!” she says, “It’s alright.”
But the circumciser is not done
She applies some herbs that really burn
The lamb is left languishing in trauma
A village feast awaits her recovery
Her parents rest assured of higher dowry
But alas, she slips into a coma
They rush her to the hospital
They’re told their beliefs are mythical
They’re surprised, they could’ve killed their own
She survives, but a part of her life is gone
But what’s to stop them from continuing
When it’s they economically depend on men
And men sexually control their women
Through this marital ticket they keep pursuing? |
