The beauty of creativity [poetry writing] has brought so much joy to me, it gives my brain and mind eyes to see beyond the borders of loneliness and makes me realised that sometimes there is beautiful sweet past like this one below. Thanks to Praxis magazine for publishing this piece and to their wonderful photographer Duncan Lessing. This was my life, I missed every bit of what is in this poem. Enjoy!
When I recall the colours of my childhood memories I fall asleep hoping to enjoy those moments in my dreams, but I’m living now where all I dream about is fighting poverty I miss the moments when our relatives called my friends and I monkeys
We played like monkeys; hanging upside down in Mango trees our toes clinging onto strong branches, swinging bare-chested in big, baggy trousers tied around the waist with shoelaces I miss the days when I knew nothing
about the world: but I realised when I was hungry I would go to the village stream with friends to swim freely; catch and eat fishes for our supper In those days my eyes never saw the piles of bodies
on TV caused by Ebola – blame was cast on eating bush meat I remember my food bowl; it had a small hole where my soup escaped leaving me grumbling and my belly rumbling unless I sucked it quickly I even miss the times when a cousin came to eat with me
He was canny; he invented a game whereby no rice should touch the ground while we ate If one of us dropped a single grain, he must watch his eat-mate play My cousin always won. I miss all those moments, it was fun
to watch my uncle dancing to Ghanaian house party music on the radio at home; the way he controlled his heavy, leather shoes not to cause any shoe accidents by squashing someone’s toes But what I miss the most is our compound; playing balance ball
in the rain, boys against girls – love came alive I miss the moments when we played like monkeys I miss my food bowl, I miss my uncle dancing, I miss our compound I miss the moments when I knew nothing about the world