My Son
I saw them whip him with sjamboks.
Tied him on a pole and enslaved,
Carelessly on a birthday suit.
He cried until his voice was hoarse.
His groans were like of an ox being castrated.
As I was staring;
The pain I felt,
Was like of an arrow piercing through my
heart.
My heart couldn't put up with the pain any longer,
Tears made their way out.
As I turn and walk away,
I whispered:
"Oh! My son,
I pray for you.Amen."
Copyright © Thabo Godfrey | Year Posted 2017
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