Background

Where I found myself As a toddler causes me anguish And quenches the fire he sets burning He the father of us all Those asleep and those ready to sleep All I see and hear are words Which demolishes current like hearts Mine was no exception Born with many words But none to write As pen we no longer see My father sighs at the news I know not why He curses and rains abuses On whom I know not Maybe on that fowl That threw away the last cup of water In our household Or maybe the rat That ate our week’s meal I believe he knows better For he talks faster than I do Even the gods are angry with Whoever he rains abuses on They have stopped the rain And dried our farms The sins of just a few Have crippled us all I heard my father say Until he brings back all he took He must chase protruding bellies in Like my pregnant self With numbered and named rips