Awoonor’s Gone

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

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.


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