Mama, I Love You Poem by Thabani Khumalo

All my life,
I've been faithfully harboring a fear of being a gentleman;
All my life,
my body has been conditioned into a state of being an abberated cripple;
all my life,
my emotions continue being a dangerous terrain that needs to be shun;
all my life,
all I've carried were the cruel ghosts from the furious fire of hell.

All my nights,
I have conserved a lucid dream of sepulchers beckoning from a forward destination.
I've long bourne a heavy burden for being a courteous personality;
I'm worried to see that all who object to my smile are big barbarians -
I've felt a growing pain burn up along my spine
because, sometimes, the 'readied' implements are too lethal to carry out in a sound mind:
yet it is not manful for any man to extend kindness to another person.
By a cultural rite, it is treason against the traditional laws of our dead fathers.

I will soon give up on either the concern or the care,
but allow for the scuffle to begin and continue in restless spurts.
All I'd rather do is sharpen my arms and lurk for enemies at their threshold
and hope for lightning to strike them in broad daylight -
whether dead or living, they are still a physical threat that needs to be curbed.
Even you, have raised me to be as mean as a tiger of the jungle.
This has become the finest reason that hinders me from the ability to know that,
Mama... I love you.