What Then Had We Become Poem by Clemens Naobeb

We are a son to them, to one
In their image and likelyness
on their bosoms we cried for love
their cracked nipples have satiesfied our hunger

what has become of us then?
that they would look at us with such fright
Am I not my wife's keeper?
Am I not my daughters keeper?

What then had we become?
that at our hands they would suffer so much
that their bodies would become our punching bags
rapist to the ones we swore to protect
killers of innocence in their mids

What then had we become?
that we will stalk them day and night
waiting, waiting silently, patiently
like a vulture to strike when most vulnerable
at homes, in riverbeds in darks alley

What then had we become?
that teachers would father their children
nuturing their filthy seed in innocent wombs
to bear in agony and shame alone
the hardships of forced adulthood
whan then had men become?