At infancy, the tribal mark and the wrist bead on my right hand,
identified me as my father’s son,
in a distant land.
A symbol of heritage,
and a sign of pride,
connecting me to roots,
where my story resides.
When I grew up,
I got additional distinctive features.
A lengthy hairy moustache, and a strong, bold slim stature.
My eyes, like my father’s,
shone bright and wide,
reflecting wisdom, earned through trials inside.
My voice, a deep echo of calmness.
A leader’s spirit, forged in bone.
My heart, a vessel, of his guiding light.
Illuminating paths, through darkest night.
With each passing year,
I grew more like him.
A reflection of legacy,
forever to win.
