A SONG FOR ADONU

the tiny chameleon says,
he has strength enough to spit
into the face of King Cobra
but he chose one step at a time

we are the sons of beardless Chameleon
we are the dog who caught the game
but are made to take comfort in the bones
beneath the master's table

we are the wood splintered by iron axes
we are the door ravaged by steel arms
and torn apart so they may take the prize

we are the deflowered virgin, raped
by sailors from the Seven Seas
and draped in shrouds of soft silken threads

we are the abandoned princess
waiting for the man who touched her soul
to return to free her heart in the stone

we are the vast and endless pasture
caught between delicate pale white fingers
that pluck and tiptoe away the smile on our faces

and now we shed tears, littered fragments
of our broken dreams in every allay of the world
while they rub our chests with the fragrance of death

the tiny chameleon says,
he has strength enough to spit
into the face of King Cobra
but he chose one step at a time
one day when the King calls
for the silent majority he'll be there

HOME AGAIN

we venture out of our birthplace,
when we feel we hit the dead end
erroneously we wave goodbye to our loved ones,
and try to forget some we never loved at all 

away from home we celebrate all that's new,

and dive into its streams with all clothes on
but the surprise is the shock when we hurt in the new
deep in tears we hear a voice from our past
notes of nostalgia come flooding into our souls

soon, the sweet candies of the new
begin to fade and we wish to go back home
back home we come to know the past is dead,
we have been away for far too long

 

TO ASHES

fading is the writing on the page
the paper graying with age
the age of innocence and love almost dead
but the bookmark stands at where
it all begun

the blurring inscribes where once
it was novelty, soaring cozily
memories flash back puzzles
in quest of where the story glide
flapping wings like the hummingbird

with the writing fading
each page begins to wane and mourn
with the paper's corner shriveling

and I shall not see those words again
except the ashes in the bin

 

A SONG OF HOPE

do not tell me
I, even I, who silhouette myself against the clouds
dance in the rain at Kutsime and walked with goats to school
should not know the paths through the plateau
to the house on the hilltop

"I have not come this far
only to sit by the roadside
and break into tears
I could have wept at home
without a journey of several thorns
I have not spread my wings
so wide only to be huddled into corners
at the mere mention of storms"

so, do not tell me
I, even I, who raced against whirlwinds,
ate dried fish from basins of the Volta
and ate with my fingers and walked with wolves without shoes
should not learn to dance in the sun's rays

do not tell me
I, even I, who sang on village lanes, knew the breeze of palmleaves
slept on palm fronds, lost my house to bushfires, and shed tears
for bad harvests at home, should look for tears
again away from home

"I have not come this far
only to sit by the roadside
and break into tears
I could have wept at home
without a journey of several thorns
I have not spread my wings
so wide only to be huddled into corners
at the mere mention of storms"

I know how to dart
sparkling white eyes, flash pallid ivory teeth
sing in a voice crystallizing into raindrops
and breathe the breeze in the house on the hilltop
long before I journeyed through several thorns
away from home

Keep for me your love

take away from me my daily bread
and if you wish, you can take away from me

the air I breathe but do not take from me

your love

you can take from me riches of the world

and make me the wretched of the earth

but do not take away from me

your smile

 

time may laugh with gladness
when the clouds run away from the horizon

birds in the meadows may burst us with joy

but not as much as your lips   

with your love I can pluck a lance of flowers
and the wave of joy your lips bring
changeth always the sky above me

and open for me the door of laughter I seek