Tied with this chained cuff,
I’m pained , my heart warps
I’m confined, I was lured into her trap
She lied, and allowed me her muff
I’m arraigned, she looks at me and laughs
The letter from the plaintiff, is read to the litigation
With each word I see grief, it pains the allegation
The prosecutor isn’t brief, he reads all the accusations
What if , what if I fail in their interrogation
“Subpoena duces tecum,” the jury say
Silence fills the room, the prosecutor presents a file -grey
“Nolo contendere before the case resume,” my advocate say
I gloom . And my mind reflect on what happened in May
The doctor said I cannot, she cried my Terry
Her tears were hot, ” I really can’t carry”
It became dry my throat, I couldn’t say a “sorry ”
I was pained a lot , the cry of the one I did marry
The agreement we made in despair; a king must have a crown
The words she told me my lovely pair,” sorry have let you down
But we have Sheila here , take her and your blood will be born
Have no fear , unwrap her gown”
With one thousand dollars, a pact was made
And our maid Sheila , came into our aid
She ignited the solar, that fate once denied
And this our boy Sila, was born in her inside
A burst that shook my knee, I thought it was a gun
The noise that took away the history, I glare at the woman
“She raped me, and took away my son
It is he, he is the man
D.N.A test agree, he did what he shouldn’t have done”
At this I hear a roar, my nose smell her incense
Oh! My Empress
She walks forward and bow, “excuse me your highness”
Looking at Sheila her tears flow, “I won’t take this nonsense”
“The complainer is taking advantage”, Terry becomes bold
She gives the court the transaction message, “her son she sold”
She walks like she’s in a stage , “this court shouldn’t be fooled”
With the recordings of Sheila agreeing to our pledge, the truth is told
And for the sake of my image, the jury’s gavel is rolled
Sheila is going to prison, justice isn’t denied
I hug her my favorite person, she fought for his pride
© Richard Owino
Rooted Roots ✍️
The Blessed Hand ✍️
Edited by Bettie Atemo, Founder, BAM CARES ARTMORE, poetry group.
