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  • Writer's pictureRhoda Akua Ameyaa

You: Through My Eyes

Photo by Imran Ali on Unsplash

(a poem)

Beloved, I see a clot of a nightmare floating in your eyes. You have locked your lips around a riveted knot and have kept the coarse thoughts you burrowed in a maze.

In this turbulence, Would you please lay you down? Twist the rules of all prophecies formulated to suit intention.

Work of Mzee Osei

Beloved, Take a look at yourself! A blossom in time. Yet, why are you so tired? Why do I taste dried tears in your voice?

Flow: Run yourself through my indented fingers. Wear me like a cloud, So I might give you rain. Be you so that I can give you rest.

via BBC

Beloved, Do not listen to the disconcertion. You are a mixture of salt and rain; dawn's chime that summons angels to sleep.

Tell me what happened --- Tell me how you became so weary. I have watched you from afar:

In the times you lost yourself, You gathered your scattered pieces. You made yourself a stake to stand up tall.


You welcomed the broad daylight even when you ran out of options. You stuck with the hope of change.

You went through fire and came out refined. You dragged your feet to cross the hollow grounds.

When the load became too heavy, and you couldn't climb the hill, I saw you take a rest. You took some load off

the bundle and hugged yourself to peace.


I know because I watched you.

So who was it? Who turned you against yourself?

Who left you with the scar that you hate so much?

And who is that on your side whispering in

your ears and making you wonder? Who is making you resent the grace

that has glued me to you this far?

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