The Choice Of A Father Poem by Job Ombati

This was my choice.
To miss the big break.
And be with my boys and girl.
Their first bike ride to give.
Hold to the tail of bike.
Them to cycle urge on.
to balance,
and then, a gentle push.
and then, cycle on.
Watched their first excitement dash.
Well done!
And now, letting you go, go alone.
And then, a miss,
the first tumble and a bruise.
To wipe away their tears,
and soothe the bruise,
and assure, all will well be.

This was my choice.
To give my girl,
her first manarche lesson.
The knitting needles to hold,
and the yarn to spin.
and the yarn under her armpit, to pin.
To do a mischief jig.
To hold the fork and knife of life,
and, dig!
To likelady be.
To play seek and hide.
To serve and cook,
not wet ugali soil in a bottle top.
To spring a surprise on mum.
To adore the grotesque drawn blue trees,
big birds and small elephants!
and green dogs!

This is my choice.
To wait for them in the evening.
And search their faces.
For any traces of the world wiping it's shoes,
and cleaning it's nose on them.
To reassure.
To listen to all those stories.
Of teacher Janet did this and said that.
To look at the drawings of;
my family; dad, mum and that's me and baby!
Dad, I saw a big dog!
To listen to all of them.

This was my choice.
To stick to my college heart sweet.
Watch years butt her face and waist.
Right there be.
To reassure
To urge on.
And share memories of college life gether.
Of the first birth, the second...
how each was different!
To take blame.
To the rants listen.
To live another day.

And that, is the choice I made!

Poems for Humanity.