Too many tears have been spilled for you by women who loved you when you were blue black
naked and exposed.
When all you had was concrete my mother was your first rose,
She grew out of the abusive past that you both shared. Although feeble she grew so you’d have something to value more than your ego.
But she stayed and she cared.
She birthed a beautiful baby girl with you and the least you could’ve done was show that you were prepared.
You see, I too, grew where there was no nourishment, hope or pleasure.
I learned the curve of your back but never the curve of your kiss.
All I wanted was a father.
A good man for my mother so she can finally feel like we’ve stopped running.
We crack but we don’t break.
We are strong and stunning.
We are everything you never deserved but it was gods mercy that you have us anyway.
Yet you’ve never taken the time to marvel at what you have, always mistaking what you should treasure for what is dispensable
Your take on fatherhood is reprehensible.
You should walk on the grounds of your woman but instead you make your women the ground you walk on.
We have kept our pain close to our chests, never once allowing you to be disrespected on our behalves.
But the sign of a fool is that he doesn’t know what he has.
You gave us up to attain people of lesser value.
What a disappoint you have turned out to be,
You are only loved by your family.
Lesser men than you will laugh at your loss.
You fed your ego to the undeserving colonizers of your soul.
Who are you?
Father of Bousso. Husband of Ndeye.
Your cloak is us.
We are the armor in your design.
Hang your head in a guillotine of your choosing.
But take a look at your concrete and smell your roses just once.
Before you die this death of thievery of childhoods and dishonor of duty
take in the beauty you never acknowledged existed.