I am now woman.
They danced my screams into the night,
Hoyoo holding my hand tightly
and stroking my hair with a gentleness
that belied reality.
This is my culture
Or is it my religion?
I forget when minds are not fully made up
But it's definitely good
whether for God or for Somalia
I must sacrifice part of my flesh.
Hand it over to calm the raging spirits of promiscuity in me
So that I may be kept pure and fresh.
The women cloaked and heavy
Sit on my chest so it is difficult to move
The tools of holy exorcism laid on the table
In their jagged glory and righteousness
Tin can lids and scissors
Before I'm rendered vision less by the incense scented scarf
I see the Mother Priestess pulling at her twigs
and her make shift razor blades.
She has her weapons,
Prepared to enter into holy combat
with my flesh.
The pain so unbearable
This must be what Heaven feels like.
My body was sacrificed at the alter of Godliness
I forget since minds are not made up
God's natural guards of conscience and faith
are not enough
for my morals reside in the physical flesh
to be torn
For me to be woman.
You're a big girl now
I came to
and my legs tied
My sacrficed flesh lay on the floor
In all the demonic promiscuity
Obvious in an 8year old little girl.
My blood of whorish evil pooled around the women's diraac's
They danced my promiscuity away
The chanted my body closed with twigs
Or for God.
Or for both.
I don't know
But Hoyoo said today I'm a big girl.
We are now women.
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