When Will My Father Come Home? Poem by Tony Adah

Since my father left home
He hasn't come back and no word from him
His sheathed dagger and raffia bag moss grown
And hanging in his room,
A Dane gun leaning on a wall and games
Frolicking in the meadows.

My mother doesn't tell me
Where he's gone to
Each time I ask, she covers a frown
And finds another story to tell
Still no story brings back my father.

There's no man in the house
Except an uncircumcised me
No one wins us the bread
Mother prowl the meadows looking
For kindlings, mushrooms and veggies to eat.

My joy is that when father comes
He comes along with bread, but who knows
When father will come?
My mother who surely knows is mute
About what's gone amiss or when really
He will come.
My clavicles are quite pronounced
And there are deep holes in both shoulders of mine
My hair is getting soft and stretchy
And scarce on my scalp.
The back of feet are raised and my cheeks
Sag like those of an old man death has forgotten
My tummy is protruding like a pregnant woman.

When will my father come home?
To massage my swollen legs
And cuddle me into his bossom of warmth
When will he come back home
And make me someone's child?