I Wrote A Poem For Your Daddy.

Someone asked me if I was a feminist or if I didn't like my dad. "Do you not write poems for fathers?" Well, I have. I wrote a poem for your daddy. Celebrate the Legacy of our indispensable superheroes - our fathers

I always longed for that day
when I'll be yours truly.
I ached for that moment
when you'll call me
Your little princess. 

It came. 
I saw it in your eyes;
How that you have always longed to sing me lullabies.
How your voice bore echoes of your inspirational love for me. 
How your voice trails betrayed
your masculinity. 

I heard the wind carry your messages. 
I saw your hands;
They had blisters.
Blisters that interrupted
the manly beauty of those perfectly carved hands. 

I saw.
I heard how you surprise mom each night with the little box of ointment.
The one for your body pain. 
I heard the rusty creaking of your legs and toes.

You wanted to jump and flaunt your agility to us;
your ungrateful children. 
But your bones betrayed you. 
I saw it.
I heard it.
Your grunts. Your groans.

 How you struggle to detach yourself from your favorite bed. (It's not your favorite because it's comfy,
but it is the only one that has stayed long enough
to bare your pains and crude needs). 

Each time, you flip out of your bed like you have superpowers. 
I wait behind the doors to watch you closely. 
My eyes failed me.
Tears trickled down my face. 

You want to play with us but you realized late
that age has failed you again. 

What had gone wrong?
Your face expresses your puzzle. 
It betrays your bewilderment.
How fast you have grown!
You have worked tirelessly. 
Your corrections are living.
And livid. 

How can I offer you a little of what I'll become?
My father; bàbá mi; bàbá rere.

There's one father. 
This is my father. 
The one superman that I know. 
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