Exodus by Sarah Kabamba

here is how it begins –
with the children.

tell me, do you know
what a mother would do
for love, for the water she
carried in her womb, for delivery

is bitter
sweet pain and joy
and life and death
and prophet and loss
hold on and let

go. release

is bitter
sweet unbecoming
and becoming, ravelling and
unravelling, hand woven womb
shifts, water breaks, gushes
like blood. and

Jochebed is sinking.

tell me, can you carry this child?
is this what she cried to the Nile,
what Mariam sang as she followed
the rush of water to

royalty, royal feet do not touch the ground,
do not feel the heat of the desert, the sand,
the dust, the never-ending grit, their castles

float on water. a baby is being
pulled from the sea. he does not belong

to you.

tell me, would you put your child
on a sinking ship if there is no better option
than drowning?

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We are surrounded by stories and poetry, Sarah Kabamba just wants to share some of them with you. She is of Congolese origins, and now lives in Ottawa.