Poetry

A TRIOLOGUE OF DESTINY

Elegy for my late friend, Richard Opoku Boateng

In a place for no skin and bone…

Soul Lost Young: I beseech you, humbly, Singular Lord,

Past my mortality- a sudden fall

When the sun was yet alive, and the moon full

Sans a farewell, in response to celestial call-

To spell out my fate, and why a fresh cocoyam leaf

Should drop amidst withered ones.

Ancestor: ‘Tis not prudent, product of my seed,

To question the whys of Otwedeanpon’s deeds.

Soul Lost Young: He nurtured me in my nest and fed me worms,

“Fly!”, or so I heard

He winged me but cut them short

On my maiden flight on life’s voyage

Ancestor: Caution! Lest you incur His fury

To revoke the irrevocable is least your duty

Rant no more, and save me the duty

Of a futile plea.

Soul Lost Young: Then, like a child in a desperate yearn

For breast milk, I will throw a fit…

I ought to know, I ought to know, I ought to…

Twedeanpon: You ought to…?

Soul Lost Young: …Go…

Twedeanpon: Cast your eyes upon this crystal orbit,

What do they behold?

Soul Lost Young: A father grieving

A mother wailing

Beating her breasts

In sorrow for their lost baby…there!

(Pass an infant in celestial garb)

Twedeanpon: My wrath be incurred upon my own head, then?

Ancestor: Forbid that in your own power, Singular Lord!

Soul Lost Young: Questioning my kismet, and the quantum of earth

Employed in moulding me…

Who am I?