From Where I come

There is no easy way to receive news of loss nor convey it. It could feel like a jab at your heart when the loss hits closer.  When my father's brother died,  the news was shocking,  unexpected, (not that anyone expects anyone to die, unless of course circumstances of age and grave illness are at play) and painful for me. My hands went to my chest as if to console my heart. This uncle was the easy-to-flow-with type,  always with a smile to give and a positive vibe around him. With the covid-19 situation from last year and years of not being in touch with him because he was occupied with work - always travelling, I heard - I had not seen him or spoken to him in ages. I just felt he was too young to die. But who is death ever giving prior notice to?  I scribbled what I felt, how I felt about such a man bringing his life journey to an end. I titled it Holding Hope. My faith makes me look at death as no end,  only a start of a more peaceful life than life on ea...

How can death be a blessing?  I haven't written in a while. But the news stopped me in my tracks. I'm sad, I'm angry and yet I'm grateful. So this was the one way I could express the emotions after some tears.  This is a perspective. My perspective.

I'm scared of what it means exactly - "Bring me to my knees" I want to look back at thirty And be proud of what I did with my life at twenty-five, Of what I did for You before twenty - five. I don't know if I want what You want for me. But God, Don't let me wander too far, Too far away from You And from the future you wrote Concerning me when I was forming In my mother's womb. Please tell me I can become What You want me to be. I am telling You to bring me to my knees And yet I think I may not like what it means. Amu Mawutoh, 31st August, 2016. @8:20

About fifty children stiring dust, Running. Shouting. Screaming after a ball. Little legs swinging, Hoping to touch a flying ball. One throws his right leg; The ball walks past him, his feet run after it. Another takes the ball, runs away with it To a place he can freely hit it. Soon he is surrounded by many legs Like ants who chance on sugar. He hits the ball and runs after it To have a second hit but Someone cuts him from behind. The girls, amidst the running boys, Interrupting their game with their cries, "Oh...let me play some". The ball leaves them to the side of the field Where one boy is seated waiting For the ball to come to him. He takes the ball to the pole Where the keeper is too small for his post. He fixes the ball for a strike, Too late, Supporters and opposers attack him. The leg that hits the ball sends it High into the sky, all eyes follow. Before it hits the ground, The bell rings. PE is over. I will remember this with a smile,...

That day he called with a smile Into his secret room. Room as dark as night. There my innocence was robbed With a drugged cup of wine A sip tore my garments, There you pushed yourself into me. I lay half asleep, helpless. My mama was home cooking, Waiting for the salt to boil her rice. You went back to watch your TV. I laid there half awake, helpless. I have met Miss Epar, And my soul's light is dimmed. I have been wronged yet you Force me into hiding. Society looks upon me like I don't belong. I can't look my friends in the eye. I dread their pity, I fear their judgement. Tell me without words That I will be fine. Tell me in silence That I will heal one day. Please! Amu Mawutoh 30th April, 2016.

I have fallen so hard my heart is still. My lips refuse to move, to tell you I've fallen in love with you. Do you hear me? Under the silent sky, glittering stars, Down here, up there, you are somewhere. My two eyes may never see yours But I have fallen so hard, Fallen in love with you. Do you hear me? I'll hum the hymn in your head. And kiss you deeply on your forehead. Tho these eyes turn to dust, Your face will be kept in its lens. I'm in love with you. And I shall write you more of this Long after we have met. Can you hear me? © Amu Mawutoh 15th April, 2016. 9:58pm

To What Remains On this same path many treaded, Whereon we are quickly headed. Whether they be great or small A part of them hang on the wall. And we on this earth May many vision birth; Whether they grow or not Who can but break the nut? The fire shall reveal the works And nothing may stand but wrecks. If they be not put asunder Tis credit to the wise builder. For with envy men shall so stain the name And with it quench your holy fame. The wind may carry along your deed But your footprints will remain indeed. ©Amu Mawutoh. 2011