MY FATHER

When the rock was walking stoically
Through the mountain of time I was
On its back, and thought the ground was still
Beneath my running legs –

Restless was my heart
For I felt yours beating in it
And mighty were the loud congas
Drumming out my thoughts.

Yet there is one quiet thought
Too deep to be breached
Too quiet to be heard
By any but me.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

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