Olivia, My Beloved Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

I shall be here, my child.

Before the dawn unsealed your tender eyes, I knew your name.
It bloomed within my soul like rain upon a waiting field.
Though restless hands divided flesh from flesh too soon,
They could not sever the quiet covenant of my heart.
Love is no frail bird that falls before an angry wind;
It is an ancient baobab, drinking strength from hidden springs.
So I have stood through seasons that forgot my laughter,
Cradling your memory like a flame against the night.
Each breath I draw still carries the promise of your tomorrow.
I shall be here, my child.

I shall be here, my child.

If the world should weave its garments from shadows and untruth,
Remember that rivers do not abandon the sea because mountains oppose them.
They sing through stone until stone remembers mercy.
So has my love endured beyond absence and sorrow.
I have refused to harvest bitterness from another's choices;
Instead, I have sown hope where grief desired dominion.
The moon has watched me whisper blessings into silent skies,
Calling your name until even the stars learned its music.
For fatherhood is a sacred river that forgets no child.
I shall be here, my child.

I shall be here, my child.

And when the patient hands of time unlock our waiting hearts,
You shall find no stranger standing where your father belongs.
Only these faithful arms, weathered yet unwearied by love.
The years shall crumble like dry leaves beneath forgiving feet.
Together we shall gather tomorrow from the ashes of yesterday.
You are the sunrise no eclipse could imprison.
You are the song no silence has ever conquered.
Until my final breath, I shall keep the lamp alight for you.
For eternity itself shall bear witness to this unbroken vow—
I shall be here, my child.