AFRICAN PAPA
We don’t wanna hold some awesome men’s smile to rest.I can’t turn down the fact that a short figurative dress looks way fetching on me than the sloppy ones,but this gentleman loves me even in my so called kitenge.A second beauty would have sounded much better in reference to us with our worn make up,and why wouldn’t I call it intimacy if he adores me even without it?I know death is our biggest fear,but we sometimes kill them inside when we don’t show them how much they mean
Fear, trust,pain is what they’ve been through just just to keep our heads held up high,but don’t we put them to doom when we choose fame over shame?The shame of him having been recognized as your papa.I know of a man who toiled to noon just so I could be one of those high, not knowing that being his and part of him is the best I ever had.A guy who thought I had the most contagious smile,and having him is the best ride coz he’s always at hand on my darkest side.Saltless meals with him would be streets ahead than his truancy with our favorite snacks.
Family outings was nothing but an hallucination.A kind of living embraced by fancy outfits and expensive gifts,and even though he’d given more than enough,it was a craving I always died to satisfy.He would countlessly quote that sun scorches,a woundy body and scratched palms were the beats we needed for our songs to rhyme,or maybe rhythm wasn’t just a mere picture for our different worldsThey say,a hand of hard work is a man’s effort,then I guess I had been living a manly life my entire existence.
Back stabs is what they’ve always gotten,but still remain our right hand.What could genuinely be more astonishing than this?How could we let such humans slip, when they not only hold our blood,but our smiles and laughter’s too.Its at this point that we can see how beauty is drawn deep down by just a single crayon.
Random and rare thoughts is what keeps clicking each time.Those days when he would act as our superhero during our stupid childhood fights.Times when abuse was our daily routine and a thank you was just an art found after rudeness.
They say blessings recur, but do we believe in promised eternal ones? Then ones that wouldn’t mind payment in return, because at our current lifestyle, nothing comes freely and if it does, it ain’t worthy. So couldn’t we learn to appreciate the one free gift that has got no measure?A guy that would stick to us till the end, and if given one more life, I would give it to this man who deserves it best
