Let me show you what i mean

my fingers are frail
like a chunk of time left to rot
in a mother’s cooking pot.
a train of sad memories leaves a trail
on the track of a child’s mind
through the words that his drunk father
says to him. after he breaks
he is caught between flying
and falling with style
the place he intends to land
is planning to refuse his refuse.
this is part of what it means to be a boy.
you are to carry the world
gently on your shoulder
to be a son, a good one
to be a father, one that provides
your eyes may be weak
your heart may one day leak
you are to carry the family’s name
like you were trained to train your child to do the same
shield your tears with a gauntlet of smiles
skin your skin, don’t object to the object
how do I intimate this to my intimate sons
that these are some of what it takes to be a man?

Tomide Abdul x Younglan