Remembering Kofi

often, sorrow streams from our hearts,
flooding the roads of our days
when those close to us are lost
along the path we thread

even, years thereafter,
puddles of sorrow still gather
between the dry spaces of our memories

such sorrows gush upward into the night
and touches the mountain of disbelief
that looms high, strong, and majestic

it’s upon this peak of disbelief, near the clouds,

I stand remembering Kofi

Nyidevu

it is at this peak of disbelief
that memories and our spirits meet
to peek at the stars, to see the moon he saw
and asked us to gather

 

I can see the face of dreams he nursed
hoping for the day when beautiful Songs
will conspire with the task of our weeping
to render and bring home bouquets

of gestures that quietly sing of the fertile

and the abundant lush of fragrance in ourselves

and we chant ululations to the land

what we have all the years forgotten

in the crust of the land