My patch of dirt

Ashes to ashes

You are the 

Not-good-enough

That betters my can't-cut-it

Bad on our own

Yet good together

Dust to Dust

You are respite.

For a heart

That is always searching,

You are

The patch of dirt

I call home

Peter the devil asks for you

Peter Peter the devil asks for you

He already got one, he wants you too

Unlike the first, he won't have you

Knowing that, he wants you still

He requested for you and the master said yes

He let you walk in the devil's chess

With your faith and 10 others'

He blessed your heart of treacherous tears

Peter Peter will your heart stay true

When a little girl calls you to

Will you die for the master's truth

Or deny him and your life anew

Peter Peter how does it feel

To save your life from the murderer's steel

At the expense of your eternal shield

To be alive and miserable still

Peter Peter, it's no time to weep

This was to show you the way is steep

You didn't fail the world I died to keep

If you love me, feed my sheep

What you are

You're a bow, and arrow, apart

A fragile art instrument

You're the first line of a song in writing for a decade

The spell on a gourd to trap God's power

A shackle forged by mortals for the omnipotent

A lost piece of colour in a sepia-tone puzzle, 

You're the inviting summit of an active volcano

A gnarly climb to a serene fortress

A David challenging Goliath while Deus mends his broken machina

You're the missed meet-cute of an epic romance

Everything that could be

A longing that hollows the innards

Too early, missed the right time, 

Too strong, broke your leverage

Too much, never enough,

never were

Awerekyekyere

Is it broken, or is it merely empty

You must tell me, Sofia, this love of ours.

Loving you in a limbo, hoping you're still in love

Filling your silence with my fervent prayer 

This tug -and-pull of hope and despair

The not-knowing where we stand, our love undead

All of my hope is you, so, Tell me,

Is it broken?

This earthen pot that is our love

Is it crushed, are we over, is it broken?

Is this our dirge I am singing?

That hollowing hollowness in my chest, is that a requiem?

This distance, does it only ever widen

Speak to me, Sofia

Is it merely empty?

Because to me, that is nothing

I will fill our pot of love again

With my tears, and your laughter, my despair, and your comfort

I will bring us back from the edge

I will reclaim this wasteland that our love has become

I will fill us again with that love that never left us cold and desperate.

But first you have to tell me, my love

Are we broken, or are we merely empty

Inspired by Awerekyekyere, sang by Kwadwo Akwaboah

The language of the trees

A year later

Everyone had lost someone

Grief had bound us by it's hearth

Our hearts were sore from being pummeled by sorrow

A year later

Everyone had lost someone

Grief had bound us by it's hearth

Our hearts were sore from being pummeled by sorrow

We lost hope itself

The disease took everyone it touched

And it touched our healer

We gathered to send him off

To the ancestors who left us for dead

We had hoped

That he would find us a cure

But everything he did, killed us faster

All the herbs, shrubs, trees were fighting us

We stopped trying to get better

As he did for others, we laid him

On a plantain leaf- lined bamboo raft

To send him off on the sacred river

With his dying strength, he grabbed his remaining son

Who will now be infected

His shout came out as a raspy whisper

"They have finally come, the people that understand the language of the trees"

THE GRINCH OF NEW YEARS EVE

Seated.

In a crowd of dancing jubilants
Shaking hands, sharing hugs
Daring to speak their hopes as prayers for others
Camouflaging their trembling hearts in white robes before a God who smells fear.

Seated in a bubble

What do you tell a God who reads minds?
What do you ask a God who whispers to noisy hearts.
How do you dazzle a God to tattle a future he clutches to his chest.
A God who earns devotees by keeping the future to himself.

Seated in angst

Before you get presumptuous
And wish another person a Happy New Year,
Remember what happened the last time you did.
If you had the power to grant happy new years, would you share it carelessly.
Are we generous with the wishes because they're empty?
Do we get punished by a jealous God for assuming his power to give happiness.

Seated in a Halo of Epiphany.

Seated.

Watching the hope-peddlars peddle cheap stuff
To the same who will be visited with all manner of misfortunes
Watching their hearts swell like the Trojans charging at the Greeks
I comfort them with hugs and handshakes
I wish you will have a Happy New Year

Tomboy

If you are one of them
you are not one for them
So hide your curves
In plain sight of their clothes
Hunch your shoulders
Hide the breasts
Speak their language
Be like them

Walk like them
Walk with them
Make an ally of predators
Take his mind off of you
Sheep in wolves' couture
When you take it off,
You're beautiful

You are soft and supple
Vulnerable
A woman in a man's world
They can have you
Forcibly, harm you physically
In a man's world
You are woman at night
Behind closed doors
In cover of darkness

It's morning, sheep
Whatever you choose to be
Today is not the day you wear your skin