Spear

As sharp as a hand on a clock,
Striking with necessity,
It comes from the lands of Africa,
It travelled from my grandfather, dad, and then down to me,
A family heirloom,
When I pick it up I’m swept away to a fighting territory,
When I scrape my finger across the ragged wood I hear the sounds of a cat hissing as if it is right next to me,
When I look at it I see a boat sailing across the southern sea,
My spear lived a life well before me,
My spear holds lots of secrets and history,
Be sure to stay near from my striking spear.