akachukwu chukwuemeka ( akabeks)
When I was a little boy
When eye was a little boy and prodigal,
eight years of age or less or more,
Papa marked me with x red bold and held his rod firm.
He bound this restiveness hand and ankles
And back twisting, eye endured pangs and agonies of a broken youth.
Neither food nor drink were permitted under this penance deployed to gain a youth grown and decent,
Even when confessions contrite were made on offence of this youngfull exuberant, reprieve was denied and punishment severe was upheld.
Youthful energy was subdued for papa thought it so wrongfully channeled. The little boy thought it hatred;
the umbilical cord of this filial trust was broken, to papa eye confessed no more,
Mama became the bridge that connected this island,
For cargoes of worries passed through her with thorough but unaggressive inspection.
She listened to the silent whisper of pains and agonies of her little boy and carried them to God in her gentle prayers.
When eye was a young man and bold, an undergraduate, focused and wiser, papa called me his son, bright.
He longed for chats between father and son to bond.
The active crab has gone back to his shell and loneliness a habit, papa lost that bonding opportunity.
One day he advised the son as a must, to tell his father all his problems and that papa will listen and attend to them.
The young man has camped with mama;
that equator that holds the extreme regions of her boys existence.
The young man became man and sober,
papa became old and weaker.
The damped woods of yesterday sundried and fire light by mama, the coldness of this union warmed up,
papa learnt the values of this son, the son without grudges understood the mistakes of raising a man in a poor and difficult family of ten.
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