A child is born

in a remote village
the villagers harbour a great hope
a young lady lies writhing in labour pains
the midwife and mother-to-be
are all buried deep in anticipation
a throng begins to gather around them
because they long to witness the birth of the child
a fire burns brigthly in the middle of the hut
showing the immaculate blankets on the floor
the ladies speak only in whispers
becaused they dont want to distract the mum-to-be
who is overcome by her emotions
sweat begins to form on her brow
after a long stretch of huffing and puffing
which is followed by a defeaning silence
finally, she lets out a huge sigh of relief
the midwife announces the good news
to the ladies,that the baby is borns

suddenly a breeze sweeps through the hut
taking away the temporary freeze
of the spontaneous moment
as simultaneous congratulating and ululating
is done to the pair, of mother and midwife
a lady yells a befitting welcome to the baby
that she must be of royalty
because her eyes are beaming of loyalty
numerous predictions pop up
about the child's future-some are humorous
but others a bit harsh,since she is only an infant
bulls bellow in the distance
in unison to the mellow villagers mood
 
I wrote this poem to glorify the unique experience many women go through in their adult life.

Note: This article is part of SPICE's From the Boys section - a space for the guys to share their perspective and reflections on the world of women - and their own worlds.