My Son by Adhiambo Agoro (Kenya)
Fruit of my womb
I beg to stay away
And let you build bridges
To carve sculptures of our souls
To read invisible lines of Holy books
To find meaning in meaningless lines
And hope from tombs left for so long
Mother will be back
Let me find one like us, for us to become one
As your spine gives your body posture
So does the rhythm of our blood play upright music?
You are my last winter bird
My twins gave hope
My smile gave pride
But we’re little termites with big hearts
We need our scraggy feet for paths we haven’t crossed
Let me find one like us, for us to become one
The roses of our hearts have a charity case
The sidelines of our thoughts need ironing
We consume a variety of edibles to keep ourselves strong
It is a hard claim to live up to, Son
I recall your baby steps
And maps you left on the seabed after a longer drought.
Our change is forbidden but still
Let me find one like us, for us to become one
I will write these lines on paper
For the crowd to listen to our acapella
My name was lonely
Your father’s name was pain
We covered your eyes from the world
For us to clean the dirt under our nails
Your life is a yearned cliché
I cry
Let me find one like us, for us to become one
We have few pieces of joy
Will we suffocate on these solitary streets?
No Son. We need history and tales
For kisses woke up the Queens and portions made Kingdoms sleep
Hold my hand to seal these words
Feel the scent from unseen paradises
As we beseech the mercies of prayer and faith
Let me find one like us, for us to become one.