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Home » Reap, Sow, Voice | Kwabena Benyin

Reap, Sow, Voice | Kwabena Benyin

When you reap what you sow, it’s accounted as faithfully yours

He wrote a love letter to the utmost appeal 

Of our native winds.           A wind delivers mildly—

Faithfully. Yours,

Should be congratulatory words for works of your own

Once,            in a lifetime & in a cold

The appearance of a season

There’s no promising songs from our beautiful sky

It’s time for a scenic rule to be recorded

& I opened & I read.           & I read again,

In the head of the letter, there were no words of hope

The mark of a genesis beyond our sorrows

Underlined with red ink across,

& underneath.

Also, in the body of the letter.            Nothing holy to dream home

Today.           Now,

The mind of a winter gone crazy roaming about in wonder

But i hovered gain.          & I read. This time— 

Unintentionally on the last words.  

& here, there were words of blasphemy

& so i collapsed.          My broken rib.

It’s only few moments until we stir a dirge as of mother’s

Words of a season, keenly expressed.           & halted with

Faithfully. Yours.

Now, there’s coal upon our white land

What if this was          but,

Our paternal inheritance? Our heritage won for us 

& stained with the violence of winter.

But in all—I want to see something, a thing—reading like,

Your own works should be accounted as faithfully yours

the voice that crawl under my left breast has left me in wonder

but something cold lingers around my chest

not a dry skin, not a needy hand. what if a voice sips through my breasts?

this time, there’s a little crawl.

a voice of low pitch felt in the perfect side of a breast,

the voice that crawl under my left breast gives me muses—

& causes a tune to be heard at the slightest folding of my elbow.

it appears i called a wind, from the east, at my groans.

but, the tingles are felt abroad even across the streets

before, i used to be careful along a ride.

now, i move with joy knowing there’s milk for the lonely wanderer

& suddenly, it disappears to nowhere. not even a hint 

of beat to feel.

you left me memories. memories dear to my heart

i long for a rhythmic breeze through my left

on your next visit, move swiftly 

& crawl into every space

—& make the one to my right jealous


Kwabena Benyin is a student writer, and an arts and nature admirer. Born and raised in Accra, Ghana, he can be found reading anything poetry, articles, finds pleasure in writing about—stretch marks, and has work forthcoming in the CGWS anthology, ASSmag publication & Writers club website & others. Benyin is currently working on a chapbook which he hopes to have published soon. He blogs at, and can be found on Twitter as: @KwabenaBenyin_