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A FATHER TALKS



growing up in the roar of my father’s voice
I felt at times that I deserved to hear his whispers, his cries,
his worries and whatever else it was that made him my hero,
but rarely did he sit with us at the dinner table
because his plate was already full with life and other ingredients that can kill an appetite/ he was always busy sketching out a world for us in an apartment he would
never own and still he remained a dreamer

placing seeds in a corner of the house
where i slept, but where the sun
was never felt he’d grow with us/
his back was hard, but with tender fingers
he would hold us and with his large arms
sometimes he’d lift me in a sweeping brush movement
and place my energy in the palms of his hands;
–bouncing on his smile and his chest
I couldn’t hurt him so I’d laugh with him
and catch glimpses of his past in big brown eyes
and I saw how he wanted to play congas
for long hours and spin afro-salsa LP’s
but he had to nourish our souls too
and that meant going away each morning;
chasing the dollar each day, for many years
until I found a problem with it
because I didn’t feel his rhythm
in the house any longer;
even if I played Mongo’s “AfroBlue”
I couldn’t feel his rhythm
or even if I played some Ray Barretto , I could not feel
my father’s soul/ I could not feel my father’s soul/
I could not feel my father’s soul and so I left home

but I returned carrying my own seed
–she was just days old breathing and looking at a world
with the same brown eyes as mine
now I’ve inherited the same routine of chasing dollars
and creating a world colored in red, black and green
making sure she sees reality and not illusions
keeping a watchful eye on all the world’s confusion/
I am a father now looking at my Baba for answers
to the days of the week, ¾in our own homes
we’re on the phone and I listen as he speaks to me
about politics and how America eats her young
yet we’re both proud of the fathers we’ve become
because Jesus Christ!, –we’re saviors walking with the courage
to be Black and obvious/ not worrying about mistakes
or misfortune –but just concerned with the bumps and scrapes this world will subjugate our children to/
my father he is with me –and Daddy I love you

I love you for letting me hear the voices and heartbeat
of our ancestors for letting me see the beginning and the end for staying with Mommy and keeping us all under one roof/
for showing me how a man’s word is his only proof and
for telling me that America is a country that hides the truth

so I’m always searching for the reasons
why we are a romantic people
that celebrate joy and pain, love and life, life and death,
death and birth, faith and fear, fame and fortune
I’m searching for answers to why brothers don’t stay
long past father’s day but I’m only left to just understand
why I do, and Dad it’s because of you
you’re the best, you’re the reason
I never felt fatherless from me to you this rings true
we are bound together by yesterday,
today and tomorrow so you are always with me/
you are always with me
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