Foreskin for the win!
A pro-foreskin blog.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Circumcision Trauma Poem

A warm and tight embrace,
keeps me sheltered in this room.
My safe and secure nest,
I know this is your womb.

I feel the surges pushing me,
and I meet a cold harsh light.
Then suddenly I'm in your arms,
and everything's all right.

Warm and sweet milky life
,given to me with love,
Then something firm snatches me,
a hand covered by glove.

Laid on a cot, I'm wheeled away.
Where could I be going?
Am I going to be okay?
I'm pushed through the doors not knowing.

There's the same harsh light again,
blinding my sensitive new eyes.
The door is shut, just me and them,
will anyone hear my cries?

My arms and legs strapped to a board,
I'm struggling just to move.
My clothing from the waist down,
is all that they remove.

My eyes bulge with fear,
I gasp, scream, and cry.
Why won't you help me, mommy?
I'm afraid that I may die!

I wonder where in the world you are,
while my confused head spins.
Its YOUR job to keep me safe.
But, too late. It begins.

A cold liquid poured upon
my most sensitive spot.
Then a sharp needle enters me,
burning icy hot.

Then I go numb,
body and mind.
I ignore them while
they cut and grind.

Finally they finish,
but I don't care.
I have no clue
how long I was there.

Returned to you now,
you smile at me so kind.
"Did it hurt him at all?"
"No! He didn't mind."

I can't help but feel
that I lost a part of me.
How can I go on
when I'm not who I used to be?

So I eat and I sleep,
resting long to recover.
But I no longer feel safe
in the arms of my own mother.

What if they come back
and decide to hurt me again?
Every burning urination
is a reminder of what happened then.

Time goes by,
I've healed from my trauma.
I'm growing everyday,
I can even say "mama!"

I live a normal life,
though I am NOT the same,
but what can I do?
And who can I blame?

I can only keep living
and seek no retaliation.
I accept my life as normal,
and forget my mutilation.

I live a joyful life,
grow up happily,
and in the process I forget,
all that was stolen from me.

(Jessica Davis Olivera)