Ode To My Father Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

You were the first sunrise my eyes ever knew,
the quiet mountain on whose shoulders my tomorrow learned to stand.
Your palms were maps of broken seasons,
yet they blossomed into bread before our hunger could speak.
From Jattu's waking dust to Afowa's waiting fields,
your feet conversed with the earth in hymns of sacrifice;
every mile bowed to your resolve,
every blister became a silent scholarship,
and hope wore your name like morning light.

You spoke no prophecy draped in thunder—
only, 'No matter how high you climb, I will train you.'
Those words became wings beneath my unborn victories.
Truth walked beside you like a faithful shadow,
discipline sat upon your shoulders like a crown unseen,
and integrity was the fragrance that followed your footsteps.
You were gold before the furnace named you so,
a river that emptied itself to keep another soul alive,
my earthly god clothed in sweat instead of glory.

If gratitude were rain, it would still not fill your oceans.
If my life were a song, it would still borrow your heartbeat.
So let my achievements become the harvest of your weary fields;
let every dream I gather return as flowers upon your path.
Until the day your eyes smile at the man I become,
I shall carry your name like a sacred flame,
for every height I seek is only an echo of your climb.
Father, the world may call you a teacher—
I call you the architect of impossible tomorrows.


Dedicated to my DAD