Pregnant Rages

I cry
for the children of my nation
torn from their mothers
screaming with despair.

Is $22.50 the worth of an infant?
And my child
just a commodity.

I cry
for the grief of the mothers
scarred and bleeding
white hot tears
for the loss of their babies.

Broken lovers
children mothers
For this is not your privilege.

I cry
for a special kind of hatred.
Centered for the blood
from which I came.

A generation, undeniable.

To forgive,
and forget
is the right of the heritage.