I was very excited to have been shortlisted for The Bridport Prize in 2022, with this poem! It was inspired by an incident which occurred as I sat in the hospital gynaecology department. An immigrant woman, heavily pregnant, was trying to communicate to the receptionist, but had no English. The receptionist was shouting at the woman as though she were a second class citizen. Talk about dehumanisation!
AN IMMIGRANT DARES TO SING
The bellies are fecund, dumpling-doughed
in their roundness.
The names roll, no one choking.
I clutch my pot, all yellow, all of it.
In walks a womb. A refugee cradles it.
It is full of child but does not exist for
its mother has no tongue to match our ears and
she knows none of our songs.
The receptionist gets loud and slow, and people stare.
This woman has the audacity, they say
to bring her womb to birth babies, steal roofs
from heads and snatch notes from palms.
To sleep with ears not bleeding and folds of flesh
safe in the knowledge they’re her own.
I am ashamed to be English.
To nurture a visible womb.
I am unable to sing Arabic.
©2022 Sarah Drury
the starry-eyed mermaid 