This story I shall write

—-This story I shall write-—


So my own tears rejected me
My emotions pierced me beforehand
So yesterday was just a dying sky
Where my fate was fried in the galaxies
Likse galleries that wishes to marry death~~~

I was lost for words that glitter healings
Nostrils perfumed with webs of shame
Truth has gone astray, castrated womb
Lies have come home, begotten syndrome
I have no horn to blow
No arrow to float
The clock is silent~~~

She came with her lust
Twisting and hissing to death
One moment of thought
And we are in the bleakest of our souls
No more reason to tell this story
No more pages to write this shame
For the storyteller has lost his tongue
Before the moon could unfold her brows~~~

I have chased my dreams in this mirror gate
Pointing to this mirage fate
Sometimes they look beautiful outside
Charming on the billowing bells of the heart
Yet, the storyteller has a bleeding soul~~~

Counting and dotting this path with ashes
Summoning and signing this rays with a heavy heart
And all I could see was that the gate was a mistake
To be denied death with a wake
Is like to be offered for rampage on a stage
So I still seek for this empty road
Where loyalty and trust thrust the heart
Cutting and punctuating each sentence
Time walks to offer me with poison~~~

These words I keep writing
Asking and beseeching the towncrier to tell the house:
I don’t want to be called a hero
Nor hear these angels sing alleluia
When the curtain of the priest’s lips become deflated
I don’t want to be forged in martyrdom
Nor to be offered a silent ovation
When the eye leaves the ears to walk in lonesomeness
I don’t want to be a line of a composed music
Nor a curtain to be raised before Nene’s play
When the sad birds come home with pepper in their beaks~~~

I am now rewriting these stories
Painting each alphabet with a feminine acrylic
But if these stories should die after my departure
Let the owls meet me at midnight
Tell the antelope to urinate on these anthologies
For the the brave hunter of this village
Has lost his hunting amulet in the evil forest~~~

Nana Arhin Tsiwah
(The Village Thinker)
© All copyrights reserved, 2015


2 thoughts on “This story I shall write

  1. I like the penultimate stanza. It creates an imagery of stoic village hero who refuses to be seen as one. This is characteristic of great achievers. They are modest in how they want to be perceived by others.

    1. It appears your relative understanding of this piece is a deeper reflection of how your perception of issues relate. I do really understand your point of reference… Honoured for your comment #PoetessEwuraAba

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