He stood — a tall, dark, calloused man,
Rarely laughed, always weary-eyed,
Wore baggy, faded clothes that matched his moods —
My father, he was.
Never once did I look up to him.
Perhaps, at times, I even despised him,
For I thought he never loved me —
My father, he was.
I won’t excuse his many failings,
But I knew not of his hidden scars,
Nor of the silent wars he fought —
My father, he was.
Now I stand, a father myself,
Determined to break the chain,
To heal the wounds within me,
And not pass them to my son —
As did my father.
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 9:14 AM UTC
He stood — a tall, dark, calloused man,
Rarely laughed, always weary-eyed,
Wore baggy, faded clothes that matched his moods —
My father, he was.
Never once did I look up to him.
Perhaps, at times, I even despised him,
For I thought he never loved me —
My father, he was.
I won’t excuse his many failings,
But I knew not of his hidden scars,
Nor of the silent wars he fought —
My father, he was.
Now I stand, a father myself,
Determined to break the chain,
To heal the wounds within me,
And not pass them to my son —
As did my father.
Partly reflects my father Mr. Njumbi Chege.
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