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