Daddy never clutched a bible to his chest But I'm guessing he wished for one that afternoon when he's blood ran hot and a heart attack creeped on him I bet he clutched his shirt in agony and anguish God I prayed My two knees gave up on me and I kneeled right beside the hospital bed With the old testament in my lap , gripping his hand tightly I held on to the last scraps of my being And God I prayed
Every single night since then I have this reoccurring dream Its the 17th of may And I'm in my black dress , hair wrapped in a dainty black turban There is no life in me I'm clutching my chest cause it pains And the tears are streaming down my face as I watch them lower daddy's coffin into the ground , The pounding wind of the early winter is cruel and mocking And I want to scream and tell them to stop, Its a mistake No My daddy's still alive But he's body is so cold Pappa tsoga , why o tonya so? Pappa ....
I'm standing there and my legs buckle under my weight And it hurts to breathe and it hurts to blink And I'm buried in tears, not silent and controlled tears but loud and unrestrained Flooding out in harsh breathes. And it dawns on me that O tsamaile papa And I must now Stumble and crash through this life thing without him With this prominent pain where he ought to be