My Father The Rapist Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

And there he was,
With his right hand clenched hard to a metal of dark horror.
Wherever it points all fall like leave in a cold winter evening.
He was a man like any,
before the soldiers came for him.
They neatly pack his troubles,
In a manner that Death envied so.
While wearing his kingly blanket on his shoulder,
A word he uttered not.
When the general slapped hard on his mate,
A mournful clench of a hand he only manage.
When he turned to glance at me,
his eyes screaming of anger,
I knew then the thing of horror that welled in him.

And there he was,
A man swallowed by the demented whilst alive.
All lost in a deep trench of filth,
driving a stake through hearts,
and never sympathy shone in his eyes.
And here he is,
a man whom before they came for him,
a man whom before he went I called a father.
Clenching hard on a gun,
turning the green of the world into rotten luck.
O' how mournful does the one he comes to look.
But how deserving are they to be killed…
They, in the end,
ended as he raped the world rid of their sort…

Ofentse Hajane