To My Unborn Child

Child,
When I get the courage
when I am brave, strong and ready
to bring you into a world with too many
clenched fists, too many open palms
too many potholes, too many ZESAless*
nights
too many frolicking leaders
I want to make sure
you are brave, strong and ready too
for the furrowed ride
for now I will keep you safe
wrapped in my scrotum
only when I am ready
will I cum you freely
like the way this poetry flows
from my tongue
When you get here
I mean if you get here
I imagine the joy of your small
cute smiles lighting up my day
your tiny hands curling
into little adorable fists
incapable of hurting any one
then slowly opening like
the petals of a blooming rose
I imagine in your sleep
you will dream of happy things
I will watch you smile, stretch your tiny limbs
saying ‘when I grow up I wanna be . . .
better than mummy (Yes mummy!)’
but child you are not to say that aloud
especially with her around
like the words flowing from my tongue
You will wear many names of your choice
I want to give you that freedom from birth
to make your own choices beginning with your name
without me breathing down my failed dreams
on you

Child
I want you to be proud in your skin
so comfortable no one can convince you otherwise
be weary of brain-pickers I would say
those who will pick on your brains with sjamboks
like they did on the backs of grandma in the cotton fields
you will be gifted with brawn but child that does not mean
you are to be a slave
and when you are old like these locks
tying my world together, at thirteen
I want your world to be open
to limitless possibility
and I want you to be brave
just like me when I will you into this world
to labour for your own happiness
to strive to cut the fences, prejudices
around the skin you will unashamedly be proud of
child I seek you to find all-weather wings
I seek to find a heart as warm
I want you to find love
give love, above all, I want you to be you
for now I will keep you safe
wrapped in my scared womb
safe from the stale promise of democracy
safe from misfired bullets of hatred
pelting my ears from the radio relentlessly
safe from circus governments of disunity
pawning our rights and freedoms
like zhing-zhong products at the flea market
only when I am ready
only when I am ready
will I cum you freely
like the way this poetry flows from my tongue.

Yours, Daddy.

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