This week we introduce Evans Owusu Kissi and Afia Amoaa Oppong-Kwakyefia Afia, two budding poets with a gifted with words and ideas.

Enjoy.

WATCHING – Evans Owusu Kissi

We have seen,

We do see

And we always see.

The way you do your things

As if we care not

But we watch you

 

The kind of words that escape from your mouth's prison

The rate at which they escape

 

We have taken note for they mean a lot.

Your temperament:

How you react to things

Big or little,

We are watching

 

You may think it's none of our business

But we are the very people who'll recommend you to others.

What we say about you really matters.

So bear in mind that

We have seen,

We do see and we always see.

© Abotreh

 

 

Afia Amoaa Oppong-Kwakyefia Afi

I AM COMING HOME – Afia Amoaa Oppong-Kwakyefia Afi

 

I struggled my heart out

I struggled with them so much so that,

They thought I was some fierce beast

I never for once forgot who I am

Though a woman,

I showed them I am not just any woman

I am a black woman

 

I am coming home mother

I will come

 

The power of their weapon weakened me

That weapon so powerful it threatened my life

 

In a long endless queue,

They marched us to the coast

With our arms and feet smeared in chains

Strong black men and women in chains

I wondered how they got my strong black man

 

I am coming home mother

I will come

 

In the darkness of that huge water box far away from home,

They squeezed us up like  how Maame Mansa arrange fresh fish for  smoking

We could do nothing but sing

Sing of our land

Sing of our home

Do not shed a tear mother,

 

I am coming home mother

I will come

 

In the yard of the ship under the scorching sun,

They strike our wounds

The very wounds they gave us

The carcass of our kinsmen fed the beasts of the ocean

Their souls hover to no where

 

Mother I am coming home

I will come

 

On their strange land have we suffered

We have made their cities

 

Now with our feeble hands and our tired legs,

We wait for the next phase

 

Mother I could not come home

I cannot come

 

Alas mother

Let not your weary soul tremble

I am far far far away from home though

 

But I will come home

I am coming

 

I will surely come home

But not in my form

The fruit I harboured   in my uterus when my strong black man knew me

 

That is your blood mother,

As strong as the race she is part of

I gave her the name you cherish so much mother

I never forgot to imbibe in her our traditions and culture

 

I am coming home mother

I will come

Doreen Oppong-kwakye writes as Afia Amoaa Oppong-kwakye.
She studied journalism at Jayee University College.
She has performed at various arts festivals incuding the National Arts Day and Ghana Culture Forum

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