Fatherhood

My children look for  
Every space or semblance  
Of any vacuums in my house  
And fill them up with  
Excited cries of “daddy!”  
   
They cling to me  
Like the branches of a tree  
And run around me  
The way pups do around a bitch.  
They are in my poetry drafts;  
In my plates of foofoo and edikaikong  
In my chattering with my wife  
And on my android games.  
They won’t let me be.  
   
A constant reminder  
That they are now a part of me.  
Fatherhood is like a 
Flowing stream that must  
Carry everything along its course.  
   
So they must be on my lap.  
On my shoulders.  
They must lie and sit on me  
And occupy all the instances.  
   
I am now I Am That I am.  
I am now the missing coma.  
I am Moses and I am his ability  
To deliver Israel.  
I am Jesus and I am his power  
To do miracles.  
I can do all things.  
I have no limitation at all.  
Tell them my children say so.  
   
So when we drive past  
A good jeep or mansion,  
They tell me they want it.  
   
Fatherhood makes me agree
To own it all:
The flowers and their beauties,
The trees and birds and their songs,
The running stream and the fishes,
All the monies in the bank,
The cars and mansions and
I wish and wish and wish.