By Shem Onderi
I am blamed for food greed,
Chewing, eating, always eating,
Even when my body shows no need.
My tummy never protrudes.
I speak too much, even when silence is bought.
I spoil relationships, intrude on conversations,
Then take them over without thought.
The other day, I nearly interrupted the preacher—
All because of my genes.
I walk aimlessly, restless,
Unable to settle on a single chore.
They say my stride, my nose,
Belong to a generation long gone.
Those who passed me these genes,
Now gone, I wish I could meet them,
Ask about the genes of wealth they never left behind—
They exited life poor.
It falls to me to build genes of wealth
For those who will inherit mine.
These genes are troublesome; I may not fully build mine now,
But perhaps I can better those within me.
If power could be granted,
I would bid the genes of poverty subside,
And raise the genes of greatness,
To pass on, stronger, to my generations.