iii. Once We Were One

Away from home

we swam through hydrogen surfs,

bathed in numberless sands
while ghostlike hands groped for us

like dragnets trawling for corpses.

Many a times our cries were followed

by police dogs snarling from a leash
and we ran through benzene rain,

and glided through clouds and armies of ants

yet, there was no place to hide.

My people, I myself am hell

nobody here planned for me to be born to this.

But soon, we’ll gather ourselves scattered

on every floor like broken Doritos waiting for a vacuum hum.

When we come for the ingathering with broken bones

we won’t bring a stampede of poets, we’ll bring an army of voices;

rattling like ribbed Trojans bagged in cans

plunged into recycle bins, and with the dip done

we’ll be born anew with melodious aroma.

 

Monday morning, you’ll see new artistic types
of graphic beauty and illustrious aestheticism.

And the moving storyline will be an epic journey
of Africonauts, Ghananauts sojourning transformative odysseys.