By Andrea B. Matambo
If I stand
Where my father stood,
Would I see what he saw?
Or would my inexperience rise tall,
And make my vision limited?
If I do
What my father did,
Would I reap what he sow?
Or would my young years and darkness below,
Cloud and choke my soft seed?
If I pass the torch down to my kid,
Like my father handed me his,
Right before he left,
Would I live in my imp like dad lives in these
Fine thoughts of his child?
If I believe in science,
(Deja vu hold me) If I don’t,
Woe me! Would I still doubt,
The eyes of grandfather in my own dad?
With this thought back and forth I wrestle.
Tell me, if so
Then what are these genes for?