Father To Son

Dear sonny,

The hour has come

To pluckily await tomorrow

And understand the galling past.

How unfair for the sun

To leave us in darkness

And leave in us darkness;

Let’s savor the meek moonlight,

Bring a seat for your comfort

And empty your ears to hear

What someday holds.

I could recall nights ago

I heard you kick

When mama blubbered for food

With four months left for you to wake

In her drippy belly.

Then we were

Penny wise, penny foolish;

Our hands held no pound

And ‘Akara’ and bread no longer could hold

The tummy fury that long.

O yes, we were mendicants,

We are mendicants

To the disgrace of fate

That deprived our toiling rewards,

That we couldn’t hold silver spoons,

That penury was our lot

As the ground stashed many rains

Of tears of our grief from grudges against life.

Someday, one day,

May the gods be weary from souls’ laments

And show mercy to heavy hearts

Repressed in the sour rhythms of time.

Decades have drained all of me

That I hanker after hope to snatch

My soul pleading death to strike.

Few breaths abide in me

And nothing but squabbles from the past

Do I have to render your tender soul.

The odd is this:

You may live, you may die,

You may die, you may live;

Whatever it is you receive,

With you must suffering die

And tell tomorrow that I tried,

That the past killed today in me

And killed me in today.

Remember this day

My son,

Remember this day,

My voice wept before you

As I leave courage in you

To face tomorrow stronger

And live my life no longer.

Dear sonny,

Survive, survive, survive,

Survive, survive, survive,

For my moment is up,

For this misery must forever stop.

Dear son,

Remember this day,

Forget not today

And live my life no longer.