A Father's Restraining Hand Poem by Job Ombati

I Didn't know;
When it impertinently tugged mine
Clasped it and never released
I couldn't see what he saw
I couldn't hear what he heard
There were times the grasp was fast
At times slack
There were times my little hand was completely free;
though for a fleeting moment.

I then realised;
As years past
Of dangers lurking
The meaning
of the tug
of the slack hold
of the momentary release
Of terminal release.

Now that it's gone;
the tug
the restraint
the release transient
My heart haemorrhages
My hand hangs longing
for the firm grip.
It hangs undecided and hungering
for my father's
restraining grip.

Poems for Humanity