Maybe if I was a woman, I would understand how it feels to have to drive men crazy long before you ever own your first set of car-keys.
How it feels to be defined by your waistline and every other line except your line of thinking.
How it feels to be described by how curvy your body is but never how straight you think.
How it feels to have to see blood at the end of every month like salaries, and the first time you miss it, you have to understand that you have just began another period of your life.
If I was a woman I would finally understand how it feels to be the pathway God chose to bring life, redemption and salvation into the world.
I see the way you look at me. With a stare as blank as the darkness I see inside you every time I fantasize about your silhouette. A stare as tired as my hands every night after countless doses of self sex with virtual women on my phone.
I realise, that I need to make an apology.
I need to apologise for the many times I have imagined you a porn star and made you compete with virtual women on my laptop screen.
Sorry for the chanting, the shouting, the whistling and the cat-calling.
Sorry for my rudeness, my ignorance, my chauvinism and ever imagining that apart from cooking, you were only good for sex.
Sorry for treating you like entertainment.
Sorry for treating your heart like a world record. Constantly working to break it.
Never minding your feelings but the validation of my peers. Leading you under the covers just to consolidate my fears. Never minding that on the day I break your virginity you cry more tears than you ooze blood.
Sorry for raising your hopes, raising your skirt and then letting you raise our children alone.
I am sorry for loving you in parts. Only engaging with the sides of you I wanted to remember. My shallow mind then had been deceived that I could find my manhood between the legs of a woman.
The way your body curved into an hour glass seemed to remind me that I still had more time to quench my worldly thirsts.
Sorry if in this poem I use your body as an excuse to shape the reasons for my fall. How I quickly turned into a hardcore hypocrite because nothing stirred inside me even after I realized that God had seen my sin.
Sorry if when God comes calling I have to put the blame on you as the woman because the fig leaves covering my nakedness are too small for my guilt. I have refused to swallow my pride and the consequences are still clearly stuck on my throat.
Sorry for the times I have taken advantage of your vulnerability. Sharing with me your fears and insecurity. As you lay yourself honest and bare at the doorsteps of my passions.
Sorry for thinking that I could fill you with myself on the days you felt empty.
I see things more clearly now.
I pray that my hands will first learn to touch your heart before they ever get close to your skin.
I pray that my lips will first learn to pray for you before they ever come close to yours.
I will no longer just respect you because of your relationship to a male figure. Yes, you could be someone’s mother, sister or wife but before that you are first a person, a woman.
-Mulama Andete, ‘I Apologise’.
Edited; view original here.