Frayed Identity

Inner lining unseen

An extra layer for the skin

A filter of deadly rays of light

A cover for our naked parts

Seasons come

Seasons fade

Inner desires

And the yearning for the sensual caresses

Of the cold wind of our cousins across the seas

Coerced and tricked us

Blindly,

We stripped

And ripped off our inner linings

Alas,

The cold winds of our cousins

Remained with our cousins

Our skins are now burnt

And blackened by the searing heat

From those deadly light rays

Time returns with its offspring

And we are still here

Unaware

Of our shredded seams

In Search Of A Hero

Sun rises, sun sets

A day rises, a day falls

A year appears, a year dies

And my people continue to seek a hero

A hero to plead their cause; to understand their desires

Who will that hero be?

Where is he?

Where is our hero?

My people need a hero who’d bring justice to the afflicted
One in whose palm justice finds comfort
My people need a hero who’d dirty his hands with the poor in the field
One in whose mind walks a craving to understand their plight
Let the hero show himself by writing down the numerous wrongs
And with each wrong, apply a belonging right
 Our hero should not only be the voice crying out for the oppressed
But also, be the hand lifting off their stress
He shouldn't only feel for their heart-searing hurts
But also, be a soothing balm, calming their sore spirits
Let that hero accept the miscarriages of their fathers
And comfort their mothers with an assuring embrace
 Are you that hero?
Would you crush all defrauders with a chain
And shackle all destructive leeches till they bruise in pain?
Would you decapitate all degenerate and heartless hearts
And yank out the hearts of unkind and brainless heads?
Can you?
 Let the hero come upon us like the rising sun
And show his full splendor at midday
Let the hero be the mild rain that caresses our soil
Enticing and coercing unwilling seeds to germinate
Let the hero be the wind wandering the sea shore
Blowing away all worries and heartaches in that moment
Let the hero be a rose, whose thorn pricks a lover
Reminding us of love entwined with a scolding power

Where is our hero?

Where is he?

Who will that hero be?

We need a hero to plead our cause; to understand our desires

We continue to await that hero

A year appears, a year dies again

A day rises, a day falls again

The sun rises, the sun sets, again.

Tears of a Fatherless Son

You hardly read to me

She always did

She spoke to me

Making me feel wanted, and loved

She asked why you were always busy

You said it was to make my life comfortable

And that when I arrived, you’d be there

My underdeveloped heart gladdened

It filled with expectations of seeing you

I just couldn’t wait

The doctors pronounced me premature

For I was in a hurry to see you

I was overwhelmed with joy as I heard your gruff voice

For I knew you were the one

The one in whose arms I’d mature

I loved my first encounter with you

You were so scared to hold me

Thinking you’d damage my developing bones

I remembered how she giggled

When you delicately wrapped your arms around me

I especially loved you referring to me as junior

And I looked forward to spending my life with you, senior

But, it’s been 19 long, lonely years since…

Accumulating the sporadic times I spent with you

Would not even amount to two years

What went wrong, daddy?

What went wrong?

Anytime she reminded you to spend time with me

You asked her of her existence

But she needed you too

To complement her existence

And anytime I cried for you

You told me to look forward to our quality times

Could you explain the “quality time”, for I know not what it is

Was it the 4 weekly minutes of you asking “how are you?”

Or my formative years spent in the midst of strangers

Your guidance was a desire I craved

I needed you to show me the way

To spank me anytime I misbehaved

And to laugh even though my jokes were dry

I needed to know about men from a man

Those dreams at night

My sticky pajamas in the morn

Those eternal, tormenting emotions

The angst, the lust, those youthful desires

She tried, but she didn’t really understand

You understood, but you didn’t really try

I guess to you, I wasn’t important enough

I might sound ungrateful

If so, please pardon me

Cos I am truly grateful for all you did

Your money sent me to the best nursery school

But I wasn’t nursed to my satisfaction

You provided me the finest basic education

But my basic desire was for you

Then you locked me up in your former senior high school

Leaving me with that obnoxious “school father”

You even bought me trained home teachers

But my most important teacher should have been you

After I graduated top of my class

You image was absent from my graduation pictures

I am educated and there is emptiness in me

I can’t boast about my dad, for I know not who he is

I know you aided in my birth but I know not who you are

I doubt you can hear me say all these

But I wish you could hear me say all these

I wish snippets of my voice will drift into your fading consciousness

My heart aches as I see all those tubes plugged into you

The breath in me drains as I feel your cold, lifeless hands in mine

Oh, how I wish I could comfort myself by reminiscing about our happy times!

Alas, I find no memories

I want to scream at you for depriving me of your love

But I wish I could give a part of me to see you arise

I wish I could have just one extra day with you

I love you dad; I think I do

But I miss you more than the opportunity I had to love

PS: This is a plea to all guys to consider the responsibility of being a father before impregnating anyone. And to those that have children: please, be a responsible and loving father. Do not deprive them of your love which essentially involves the time you spend with them.