In countless words told
I could easily break in a thoughtless hold
For many cagy stitchy words
The machines kept busier with their mouths than hungry birds
To paint the picture of my frailty
Interfering with my mental agility
Your back must please in a pleasurable bed
It doesn’t have to be soft, your back is all you need to be led
I lay in a bed in time
And felt the pain and the ****** slime
I lay in another bed of roses
And end up with chronic bruises
They then talked about the hurts
And warned to not look up to the whites in trousers and shirts
For they are untamed and lack veneration
And get worse from generation to generation
Now I look at close quarters
And the untamed are better in shatters
They are free to bellow
And have a choice to discard the shallow
Now I want to break free
They say maintaining the bed of thorns is a decree
Break these chains
Please break your chains
And free my wings to make me fly
I am tired of the usual cry
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014
Many times, women in Africa are forced into marriages, subdued and oppressed. The persona of this piece realises too late that though she is branded frail, she has to lie on a bed with painful thorns. So the frail woman had to suffer to break free. She pleads with whoever made the laws to break the chains so she can be free.