Burden of Power – Service
Doubts In Your Place
Turbulence
Nights are a journey
where beds are boats
and insomnia, waves of waters
that keep you tossing and turning
till you reach the port
— daybreak.
Circles
Life is a seeming paradox
We wake up hoping
Expectant
Yet spend the day running
from designated angels
out of fear of demons
For it is angels who fall
and become demons
Life is a vicious loop
Without a leap of faith
we run on in circles.
Under The Old Sycamore
Father left for work
Like any other day
Mother stayed bedridden
Father said mother needed to rest
Kwame sat me in his lap
Answering all the questions I had for mother
Afua soothed Abena while she cried
With a prancing Kofi strapped at her back
Mother no longer smiled
She had run out of pain to break into one
Bit she looked so peaceful
At times it appeared she was somewhere else
A place better than here
But I knew she liked us around her
Full of life, full of promise
Of flowers sprouting through briars and thorns
The way her eyes darted from face to face
That was the only time she didn’t look like grandma
On the day she went to heaven
We huddled around mother while Kwame and Afua took turns
To tell us stories from the Bible
But mother drifted in and out of sleep like always
Father didn’t come home that night
That was the last time we saw him
Mother didn’t sleep; she wouldn’t sleep; she couldn’t sleep
She may have been scared for father, for us
Father was always there through the night
He would always tell her about his day till she slept
But not today
So I crept up beside her
Told her all about the girl I liked
Father had seen her twice
She was as beautiful as mother
And as silent anytime I talked to her
I wanted to marry her
We talked throughout the night
I don’t remember when we both fell asleep
Mother slept on in the morning
She had a smile on her face
Somehow the sun rose in the darkest storm
Her last breath, the most beautiful picture
Death was the strength of her love
We buried her body with father’s memory
Standing there, all five of us
Bonded by our brokenness
This was forevermore
Outside the shed we called home
Buried in the heart of the old Sycamore.
Ice Box
I’ll Find You
I will find you where
the trees are home to the birds
and the river overflows its banks
far from where the city watches.
Wing Stubs
This was where you first bled
This was where you first cried
Where blood first mixed with water
and irons crystallized into bars
that held you caged
You who was once a bird
you who once flew farther than the clouds
Held down by regrets
and illusions of scars sticking out
from where wings used to be
You who once braved the night
and burned brighter than fireflies
clinging to memories of iron and salt
finding solace in the dark
Ashamed of the light
and afraid to trust the wind
anymore with your secrets.
Intangible
Love is that person
Who counts every moment
And every passing second without you
As loss.
November
