Poetry by Maame Agyeben

Food for thought

Would you have only me

as your morning waakye

your evening jollof

Sunday fufu

light soup

spooned fresh from the pot?

I miss you, you know

but you are thinking of food

perhaps for times you could not eat

the years you fled your home

for the wholeness of your body

not the fullness of your belly.

You watch me slowly

carrying your hunger on my plate

holding space for your lonely.

You miss me, I know

but there is no way to feed you

with this recipe of brokenness.

wanderers

perhaps there is something

for the wanderers of continents

a place that will conspire

to root us in ourselves

someone to buy us back

from the world

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