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—
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,
Also, in the body of the letter. Nothing holy to dream home
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
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 www.aswrittenbybenyin.home.blog, and can be found on Twitter as: @KwabenaBenyin_