BECOMING THE MAN MY FATHER WAS

when mama led me here she sang lullabies of whispers
like they were rehearsed masculine lines for a boy like me

to soothe my griefs, & once some weightless winds said:
“beat the track & don’t let your griefs reach the finish line”

when mama led me here she lent me ears wise as hers
& a left palm, old & fertile like her wrinkled hands with veins

rooted beneath her flesh, where planted words didn’t die:
“don’t die in your griefs; they’ll bury laughter in their cheeks”

when mama led me here it was papa who took my hand
while I led him to the place where my griefs plundered me

but he went & came with waters of words to wet the griefs:
“you are a man; carry them like a worn cross-crown & smile”

—————-

SCARS

my body
became a graph
where wipes plotted
curves & thick lines
that grew in length,
each for the “no’s”
i stabbed air with.

i starred
the painful points
where those lines
kissed like lovers
& had a naked blade
blot out the lingering
hate that still breathed.

—————-
Poems © Olalekan Daniel Kehinde
Photo by Steve Shreve on Unsplash (modified)