He speaks within me,
The me who is not me
He tells me
That I don't belong here
That I should stage a search
For my roots.
He speaks within me
The me who is me
He pats my shoulder gently
Tells me,
Son, search not
For its here, where you belong.
He speaks within me
The me who isn't me
He rattles my comfort
He stirs the pond
Later settling at the bottom
When ripples die off
He disfigures my identity
And like a complex jigsaw
It takes eternity to re figure
He claims I have a funny long nose
Unlike my sister's which is flat
Like one of a true Bantu
He says I'm dumb in class
Quite unlike my mother
Who always topped
He drives me nuts
With his constant reminder
That I'm not the me I claim to be..
He speaks within me
The me who is me
He is caring and compassionate
He reminds me of old days
When children belonged
To the society
He cuddles me closely
He assures me
That it's not looks that matter
Neither traits nor genes
He insists it's the heart
The soul, the touch
The scare when sickness engulfs at midnight
The joy when growth milestones are achieved......
He strongly insists its the love;
Even conception is a child of lovemaking!
Identity is the soul of any human being, lack of it is disastrous especially in an African setting, confusion about it is even more catastrophic regardless of the setting. What really defines ones identity?
