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A limping leaf waiting for rain

At first the sun rose in her eyes
she was a nymph in fairyland
the sun has been plucked out of her eyes
to her, beauty is dirt and pain mixed together
why can’t alkaline and water make her clean
or a bottle of aspirin would exorcise her pain?
maybe if she drank Holy water
or prayed in tongues, eyes would be opened
to see how messed up she is and redeemed
she might as well be a modern day female version of Isaac
who followed Abraham to the mountains for a sacrifice
with no knowledge of being the sacrifice, holy or unholy
she wants to feel loved and love
know and understand love for what it is and should be
but her horns are trapped in the bushes of her past
so she can’t ram down this wall of low self esteem
at 5 she loved the choruses of laughter he drew
from her soul as his fingers strummed her body with tickles
at 26 she quivers at the imaginations of how many times her innocence
was stolen with those same 10 fingers between 8 and 12
he told her, she brings him sunshine
but what sun casts dark clouds and sheds rains when it shines
now she is a living grave,
with no window or door to escape this entrapment of unworthiness
she fears the darkness but has no courage to turn on her light
she is a limp leaf waiting for rain

To love is to live
to love and be loved is to live fully
he is a star with his twinkle fading
his notion of love and trust is constipated
he believes being indifferent to love shown him is the norm
he is a sheep in wolf’s clothing
they say it is a phase
but the demons he faces are buried deep
in the marrows of his bones of his soul
that bleeds out his buried pain
calm on the outside
but broken like the walls of Jericho on the inside
every man must carry his cross they say
but how many crosses can one man bear?
he looks whole but is torn in pieces
like the garment of the savior shredded at Golgotha
is not the new creation he must be?
does what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
apply to a living dead?
at 6, her arms was the fortress he ran to
when nightmares came seeping into his pleasant dreams
at 29, he repels love from any woman as though it is a plague
because at 8 he was trapped by a living monster he thought was his refuge
she told him he was a man
her man under the cover of the night or when they were alone
but he was just a boy
now he is a living grave,
with no window or door to escape this entrapment of unworthiness
he fears the darkness but has no courage to turn on her light
he is a limp leaf waiting for rain

stkg 2018©

 

stkg 2018©14da03c180f34f31947c4ff4902d0044_18

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Posted by on August 23, 2018 in Poems

 

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We Have Lost a Song (Tribute to Kofi Awoonor)

We Have Lost a Song (Tribute to Kofi Awoonor)

We find ourselves at the confluence of tears and pride

Our feet and arms too weak to paddle us across the river of sorrow we drown in

The songbird that chirps the songs of our ancestral beauty has been shot down

And the wind echoes the deep silence it has left behind

The warmth in our songs has been stolen

Now the cold cloth of pain and loss embraces us

As though we share a common lineage

They have indeed poured bile on our tongues

But we are the sons and daughters of singing hunter

The great warrior whose potent weapon was his tongue

Which unfolded many leaflets of life’s songs

Hidden from every day’s eye

The hunter whose tongue was the anvil of on which

the rebirth of our songs was forged

The warmth of your voice that lingers in the ears of our hearts

Gives us hope as we carve your name in the hearts of our history

 

The feet of our emotions wobble like cassava leaves in the dry winds

We lift our calabashes of our ears and hearts to have them filled but

you are not here to serve us

And so we burn  of thirst

The sun has pulled a dark blanket over its face

so Agbenorxevi hums it’s song rather than sing it

and the  morning dew perspires as our tears water the grounds on which we stand

So the river bird sings of you not returning

For you had crossed the boundary to the other side of no return

We do not believe you are gone away

But alas, the river bird never lies about crossings

 

 

‘Wobɛ ahloɛ medoa nyi fɔkpa ooo

Yata Nyidevu amekea nebe ne do woa afɔkpa?’

Hmmm ati ga ade mu,

Nɔfe adeke mega li na xeviwo woa dze

Adzi ha viviwo nami o.

 

Today we long to hear your voice echo in the valley of

The blooming cornfields of life

Ready once again for you to set our spirits

on journeys of real identity discovery

With our mouths metamorphosing in to beautiful butterflies of smile of gratitude

That developed from the cocoons of our hearts

 

Yet the hunter, whose greatest weapon was to songs of his tongue, is mute to our calling.

 

Mute to the sounds of these same hollow pipe that spat metal pillets

That stole the breath of your song

The elders say there is nothing the eye will see that will make it shed blood

But they lied for the eyes of our hearts shed tear of blood etched on scrolls for you

Though your silence is deafening

And the distance between us undefined

We know Kitikata will wipe our tears with the gentleness

Of your undefined memories that are as soothing as a bed of detifufu

As we are assured that you still live on in our hearts.

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on October 7, 2014 in Poems

 

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My Chronicles 2 (Life of a battered Young Woman)

My Chronicles 2 (Life of a battered Young Woman)

JAMES.

There are times you need to check the pieces of your life and tick some off as mistakes that should have never occurred and this chapter is one of them. Anytime I think about my relationship with James, I do not know whether to curse him or curse the day I allowed him into my life. I met James during the first half of the first semester of my first year in the University. Now, Ideally he wasn’t the one I wanted to date. I had wanted to date Eric a colleague, but Eric was also interested in Sitso my now best friend. Since I couldn’t have Eric, I decided to make sure that he also didn’t get to date Sitso by telling her lies how Eric had confided in me that the only reason he had befriended her was to get into her pants and dump her later. Up till now I still can’t believe she swallowed it line, hook and sinker because Eric was and is still just an adorable cool, calm and collected guy who would place anyone’s happiness above his when he deeply cared about the person. These days I see how Sitso struggles with her relationships and I wish I just didn’t separate her from Eric. Well, enough of the regrets. Let me continue with the James story. James was a year ahead of us and like any ‘adventurous guy, plunged himself into the whole ‘September rush’ thing. His initial target had swerved him so he fell on his back up plan ‘me’. The initial idea was to drain him of some cash by pretending I was interested because the school fees was expensive and I had to struggle for my upkeep in school. James however unlike me, comes from a well to do home and being the first child and only boy, his parents made sure he had virtually everything he wanted. We were friends for a couple of weeks and then he started taking me out to dinners and social events and out of the blues proposed to me. I told him I needed time to think about it and he agreed to give me time to do so. One day as early as 3:00 the strumming of a guitar outside our door woke my roommate and I up. We looked at each other confused as to who would be playing a guitar right outside our door at that time of the night. Then he began to sing Brandy’s ‘Have you ever’. In all honesty if Brandy had sang the song the way he sang it, it would have made absolutely no sale but the mere fact that he thought of an idea of singing to me at dawn and not caring if he woke up the whole hostel, sent a sweet sensation down my spine. I got out of bed smiling like a lunatic set free from the asylum, unlocked the door and planted a fat kiss on his lips that germinated into a yell of joy that attracted some cusses and insults from sleepy mouths.

The first month of our relationship was like a honeymoon. I was served breakfast in bed and treated like a real lady then it began to the envy of most of my other female colleagues. The sex was great too. I mean the kind that had your toes curl and tingle just by thinking about it. He did know how to make me come in many ways that one. On weekends we will visit his parents or younger sister and boy oooh boy did the love to have me around. During the second month things changed drastically. He warned me about getting close to any other guy at the hostel and that apart from his room I was not to go into any other guy’s room. At first I thought it was a joke but when he refused to eat the supper I had prepared for him but rather dumped it with the plate into the dustbin because he saw me coming out of Eric’s room I knew he was serious. There was this particular night that together with some other guys including Eric, they decided to go out for two parties they had been invited for. Around mid-night the whole hostel was up because on their way to the hostel James had picked a fight with Kwabena saying he suspected Kwabena was flirting with me. It had gotten to that point where if Eric had not practically dragged Kwabena away there was going to be a bout. That was when I discovered that anytime James had some alcohol his mental faculty switched to crazy mood. The next morning he left the hostel without a word to me and I thought he just needed some space to clear his mind. Around noon I was in my room when I heard a drunk James screaming my name on the corridor.

‘Gina Gina your whore, idiot! You think you can play with my heart eeerh? Today I teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.’

I rushed and locked my door. He tried to open the door but when he realized it was lock started banging on it and screaming

‘ Herh! Open this door right now if you do not want more trouble. I break this door oooh! Ashawo!’

I was so embarrassed all I could do was sit on my bed with my head between my thighs and weep. True to his words he broke down the door and with his belt in his hands, he gave me the beating of a lifetime. When he was exhausted. He half picked himself up and left the room. Now I know you are asking yourself whether there was no one apart from us at the hostel. Well there were others there, and they refused to come and stop him because I had stopped talking to most of them when they tried to warn me about James. Later that evening Sitso came from home to visit me. Well I do not know whether someone called to inform her of what James had done to me but one look at me and she decided it would be better if I follow her home so she could take care of me. I ended up spending a week at Sitso place and she advised that I end the relationship with James. When I got back to the hostel, I realized my door had been fixed, my bed sheet and curtains changed and a new laptop on my bed. I knew he was the one who had done all these so I packed everything and sent them to his room. He was out of the hostel and it was only his roommate who was there and so I poured the things on his bed and left him a note that I wanted to have nothing doing with him again.

For the next two weeks he was constantly begging me to forgive him, and that he didn’t know why he did what he did but no amount of begging was going to make me go back. Then he felt sick shortly and got admitted to the hospital and his mother came to plead with me to at least visit him since she suspected he wasn’t getting any better because of me. Out of respect for the mother, I agreed to visit him at the hospital, he said he would kill himself if I leave him, promised to be of great behavior and as it will turn out I found myself in his arms again. Everything was going on well then it got to a time the sex really began to suck. We will caress each other and set the mood, then he will undress me and stare at my body for long and tell me he was not in the mood. There were times he would shove things into my vagina all in the name of us being adventurous sexually and film these. Though I was not really comfortable with all of these, I partook in them all in the name of love and hoping it would revive his sex drive, at least that was what I thought. Then one day, I caught him having sex with another lady in his room. When I confronted him, he said left to him alone, he would not have sex with me because I stink and sealed it off with a sound beating. I cried the whole night and it got to a point I felt my eyes were going to fall out of their sockets and decided he wasn’t worth it. I called his mother to inform her that I had ended the relationship with her son because I could no longer take the abuse and then she came to visit me the next day.

She told me that men will always be men and that if I loved her son, I should stick by him no matter what he does to me because she knew he really loved me. That was when I realized her husband treated her the same way her son was treating me. I apologized to her and told her, I’ve had my fair share of abusive relationships and wanted a man who would treat me right. I told her that her son had filmed some of our sexual escapades and threatened to put them on the internet if I broke up with him but if she really loved her son she would advise him not to try that since there would be dire consequences. With this she stood up hugged me and left. The last time I checked, James is in Australia and married with two kids and has not yet killed himself because I left him. Next week I’ll tell you about Pastor Fred.

 
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Posted by on April 3, 2014 in Fiction

 

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