
My Pregnant Dad
He never wore his heart on his sleeve
he tucked it beneath layers of silence,
beneath calloused hands and weathered breath,
beneath the weight of everything he never said.
But I saw the swell
not of belly,
but of burdens.
Dreams unbirthed.
Sacrifices carried like unborn stars.
Each morning, he labored
through bills, through bruised pride,
through long shifts and lost chances
gestating a better life for me.
He never told me he loved me.
He showed it in the food that never ran out,
the lights that always flickered on,
the coat he went without
so I could wear warmth in winter.
My dad was pregnant
with possibility,
with pain,
with a hope so fragile he never dared to name it.
And when I was grown,
I finally saw the truth
that love doesn’t always come wrapped in lullabies.
Sometimes, it comes
in the shape of a man
carrying a world
he never meant to call his own.
And that so I decided to call him..My Pregnant dad
The Knowledgetic Steroid AkA Donald Knowledge Nhira




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