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May 2015
One : night
Two : drinks
Three : words, I love you

One : morning after pill
Two : times no period
Three : words, not my child

They all say, just get it taken care of
And by get it taken care of
They don't mean to care for it,
But to get rid of it / her / him...
Me

Time ticks faster
The stares linger
Longer
Judging eyes gawk at one
But sees two
Wagging tongues race to spread
Their supposed never - ending knowledge of my story
Faster
Forcing me to embrace the shame
Like a coat to warm my growing belly
Growing
Growing life
Replacing life
Demanding my four-year-plan to master a disappearing act

Just like mother
Listening to lust-filled lies of love
Love that won't help me
Love that mocks me
Love that scorns the ground
that I trudge my heavy laden body of two
To The Women's Centre
Love that can't take me back to my high school
Love that won't pay for it's future/ her future/ his future
My future
Just like father
My coat of shame gets heavier on my stretched skin
Thick skin
Strong skin
Strong enough to balance the weight of their laughter
Their mocking
Their unsaid words
Her laughter
Her mocking
Her unsaid words
Her sharp curses
I can still hear mother's booming voice,
slashing my soul with her words,
"Yuh dutty *****, yuh !
Afta ah *** use ma good-up, good- up money
Send yuh ah school
Yuh ah waste yuh time wit maangy-foot bwoy.
If yuh cyan spread yuh legs like big, big 'ooman
Den yuh cyan live like one big 'ooman.
*** outta mi 'ouse !"

With no finances on my own
I crawl to a new home
To shelter my wary young bones
Begging for the warmth inside
My belly, my heart
Craving the warmth outside
On my skin - our skin.
Just a hug, a smile, an un-judging glance
But all I get is surrounding walls of young girls
Cemented with ridicule
Finding my brief safe haven in the depths of kind eyes
Sharing
Helping
Warning
They say you might get sick
They say you could die
They say I might get sick
They say I could die
They say the mortality rate is higher
Because the age is lower
Will we survive?
Survive the pain of growing
Survive the pain of coming outside our wombs
Survive the looks, the talk, the lack

One : cry
Two : undone hearts
Three : steps trudged forward
Finally did the revised one- not much change
Joelle McCook
Written by
Joelle McCook  Jamaica
(Jamaica)   
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