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Anansa stood ebony tall,
Confounded by the fog towering her horizon.
Blisters of sweat form beads of neat crystal ball upon her face
that find their way down her chin, then her breast-line
As she wades in the smoldering sun with a protruding tummy
as if hiding a melon mound.

Two days ago her lover was stoned to death in the village square,
And she was banished for breaking marital vows
Because it was found she got pregnant for a man outside marriage,
A man she'd loved since childhood.

Here is a young beautiful woman
Carrying the madness of the world in her pregnancy,
Condemned by the laws of morality.
Castigated, rejected and disdained for a heinous sin,
Even though she was forced to marry an elderly village chief
Who could afford the fattest goats and dowry
When her family bargained her selling out.

But a woman's first love always remained her best,
A lovely creature from the innermost part of her heart
sweeping her off her feet and raising her to a higher plane.
The moments of moonlight tales when lovers drift into the fantasy of a world humans cannot create,
Moments of the riverside encounter,
Moments of the fire log forest when lovers swear vain prayers for a lasting tide,
When their innocent faces dared look into each other eyeball to eyeball,
When the sleekest adversity hatch eggs of secret marriages and possible elopement.

Such is the blanket that spreads itself over a woman's heart
at the sight of a man she loved first,
Even if affection may try to hide under the tattered sheets of norms
Or betrayals and broken hearts could quicken that stimuli to hate,
Lest a woman is helpless by this touch,
But society will deny this truth
Because society was raised to raise fingers upon culprits.
Laws were made by mad men without a second thought to forgiveness.

My grandmother told me
"Whoever is exposed is laughed at, but we're all criminals and sinners. Righteousness only mean to not get exposed."
When you point a finger on someone the rest look back to you.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


I've been thinking for a bit on this work. The story is so hard, and so common still in the 20th century where daughters are sold to the highest bidder. Adultery crimes are dealt with so differently in these archaic societies, sometimes the woman dies, or the man, or both...
Your poem is more journalistic and prose. The opening is strong as poetry and then the language settles more into the narrative. As a poet that has expressed outrage with such passion and sharp as dagger images, I think you could do more with this piece.
My suggestion is radical. I would write the poem in the first person, as the woman.
This would give you the stage to present your wealth of power, to expose the very guts of anger on the page. Then you would be less telling us the facts and truth about society but reach into the motivation and horror of being forced to abandon love for arranged marriages. As well as the cruelties of punishment, and what shall happen to her and her baby.
Or write as the man, about to be stoned to death...

my take, as always, with best intentions.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

I considered all that but settled for this, I'll rewrite the poem from aanother perspective...


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