by Afya Kiss-iwaa Ocran
The Grim reaper has set his tent in our compound
I hear him munching; crisp…crisp…he munches his soul
My spine is stiff-chilled
A goose walked over my skin
The pain like seashore grains
I rub my eyes to sore
I hear wails and pain deep in my spirit
I asked, I was told; yet another iroko has fallen
At the mercy of a pointed hollow tool
They have done me wrong
My head and wrists are red-banded
But I forgive ‘cus I know that,
Whom the gods love, they take
The bright moon on the night
Of my ‘Fofie’, his too
Has been eclipsed by sudden clouds from ‘Kwame Mawu’
But, I know what they say about clouds….
No matter how dark, he left us
A silver linen; art!
We shall continue the customs
Of this recent forebearer
KOFI AWOONOR LIVES!
And so Kofi, when the “Night Of My Blood” has come, come “Ride Me”
To “The House By The Sea”. There, shall I sit to read every page in the “Latin American And Caribbean Notebook” “Until The Morning After.”
Afya Kiss-iwaa Ocran is a third year student of University of Ghana, Legon.