This, certainly, is a lesson on decay,
the decomposition of a body,
which once held strength in its toes.
Its swagger now vulnerable—under
the knife that pierces,
as thunder pierces the still of birds—
they used to be free, although vulnerable.
This body, made from a fetus, grown into its own—
now bows to inexperienced hands searching
for the meaning of evidence-based medicine—
searching for science-based love songs—
their mouths shout out to lovers across the old room.
Their hands trembling, hold the diversity of scalpels,
making pliable, skin—
used to be tough, like grandma’s morning grits—
her sense of entitlement, that we must all eat daily
that which remains most unpalatable.
her sense of accomplishment, when she first learned to spell
Lind Grant-Oyeye is a Nigerian-born multi-award winner. She is the recipient of the UHRSN human rights poetry and the Irish Times writing awards
Inspiration: Growing up in a country where free speech was suppressed for a while, due to military dictatorship, I believe any rumors which suggests the banning of words, should be taken seriously, until they are deemed unfounded.