This point by Apio Winnie

When did it get to this point
When the eyes that first saw me
Grew flooded with tears.
Droplets of pain
From a love she used to call her own
A love that soon became someone else’s.

When did it get to the point
Where the voice that used to sing me sweet lullabies
Became an echo of anguish
An orchestra of insults
A coarse semblance to the sound of a trumpet that’s out of tune
Trying to make music out of the notes of her scars
Yet only preaching brokenness and hopelessness and a chorus
Of I wish I had known.
I wish I had known.

When did the molder of my home
Become the destruction of my future
Causing me to tear down any faith, hope and trust
In the sanctity of love
And build walls bricked together by fear
Casting shadows that forecast a murdered belief in family
A strangled representation of what my home should be.
You see,
I always thought that love never leaves.
That love never has to grieve.
but watching her weave
the heartbreak of her past
into a sweater that will hopefully keep away any cold-
hearted bastards who do not really know the meaning of
I do;
A shield to keep away the burning arrows of a man
Who pretends to understand ‘til death do us part’
She weaves it day and night
As if that were all her life had become
Everything that her destiny had been webbed into.
And when she’s done,
She makes me raise my arms
As she slowly slips the sweater down her daughter’s body,
‘may the man you find, be nothing like your father’

Author: Open Mic

Open Mic Uganda is a company that presents people with a platform that promotes poetry, spoken word and related art forms. It encourages the enhancement of poetry as a recognized art form that can be used as a tool for education, communication and entertainment.