Endowed in perpetuity by the Glenna Luschei Fund for Excellence

Finding My Voice

Finding My Voice

By Nana Fredua-Agyeman

To you, Kofi Ghanaba—
A true son of the Motherland:
Though dead, you live.

Last night the sax played.
In the stool house
A spirit died.
Men of the Motherland
Crowed Wesley chorales.
Our voice fled:
It fled from
The fearful
Slaughtering of desolate souls.

I am a toddler
Groping for an arm:
He said, one whose
Blood is black
Must walk bold.
My blood is black
But I can't find a foothold.

Last night the drums beat.
The spirit was dead.
We couldn't croak
To the seporowa tunes
Of a lone longing long-ago man.

Our slaughtered souls
Found not their voice
Amidst the desert bones.
We were a dead people.
A people without a voice.

Yet there are echoes of voices here
The linguist inclines the bottle
The drummer calls upon the bold ones
With encrypted messages
Thundering through the land.

the Kilimanjaro-conquering quantum soul of Nkrumah
the Akwapem-meandering mountainous mind of Madiba
the Tanganyika-twirling titanic tunes of the drum

Not all gatherings of clouds
Lead to rain.
Not all deaths
Are honoured by termites.
Adept fingers alone
Do not make good music:

The drummer stops
His flesh is consumed by fire
His soul swims with the smoke.


Nana Fredua-Agyeman

Nana Fredua-Agyeman is a writer and an Agricultural Economist. He was born in Suhum, a small town about eighty kilometres from Accra, Ghana. His poems have appeared in poetry magazines, anthologies, and literary sites. His Haiku have been published in Frogpond, Acorn, The Heron Nest, and at simplyhaiku.com, Shamrock Haiku Journal, and World Haiku Review.

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