By Renee S. Akosua

I stood up above Afadja, questioning my inner self how I got so high up, I could see uncleared paths down below, broken clay pots and confused ants who missed their path as though they found my mere presence repugnant.

Oh Afadja was beautiful up above, clean air and cold winds. I could smell tainted roses. How did I get here, I whispered to noisy toads in far off distances, pretending to croak but eyeing my every thought?

I was here attempting to flee the ghosts that tip toed by noon and fled by night. I was here because those ghosts were no white phantoms in white bleached sheets no no no, those ghosts were in my head, under my skin. I almost led my self to the slaughter.

Maybe I came so we could call a truce, shake hands with the ghosts in my thoughts and show to them the beauty that lay far beyond Afadja. The beauty that lay within. For where weeds grow and die, do roses grow too.

I was here because the gods wouldn’t hear me. They turned their backs on me on harmattan nights. I shouted out, to their backs because they had turned on me but in reality all I had was them. I questioned them, because talking to them was like talking to a brick wall, even then, walls did echo.

I was overdosing on my own tears; I had become afraid of me.

But the gods, they had the answer or so I thought, think me not insane yet I whispered to my thoughts. Think me not insane.

Maybe if I could find the gods, maybe if I could get the gods to smile, maybe if they would let me run my finger across their existence, maybe they would fall in love with me …maybe.

And so here above Afadja, maybe they will hear me clearer, maybe my screams would rise up above the smoke the beans seller created behind my house.

Here then, maybe a reflection of my own self against the fog the gods created at dawn would entice them to answer me.

Answers I seek that my soul maybe set free, don’t eye your Bible yet. For finding the Genesis in the Revelation or vice versa I had not found my answers. As I stand here, watching, eyeing every moving cloud, I hoped that the gods would drop a hint at least, that for once or so…I’d been heard.

 

 

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