Poetry by Akosua Asor Acheampomaa
Can you hear?
wails coming from the golden city
wails disguised as joyful noise.
journey to the golden city is in several dimensions.
To some it is a life time imprisonment,
to some it is a journey of unassured arrival,
and to others, a journey of no
The image of the glorious golden city
that is stuck in the minds of people at home
is in reality, a ripe mango rotten on the inside.
A city where men leave behind their ribs at home
and women – their wombs,
in order to get there
My heart freezes at her limping.
The calluses on her hands,
the acid she has to dip her hands in daily,
the shoes made with thorns she has to wear each day
just to feed her family back home.
A place where men cannot help but
throw their semen everywhere
in order to gain recognition
We lose our identity without realising it,
we cook and gulp down our remaining pride.
We drift through life
without any vision or mission.
the innocence of our children are robbed
But who can we blame?
Is it the people who chased after us
with ammunition of bad governance?
Or our own ignorance, greed and laziness?
Why do we prefer a rotten fruit to a ripe one?
I wish I knew the answer
For Akosua, poetry is a version of herself she’s always been living with. It is what gives her wings in a world full of restrictions. Follow her on instagram @akosua_asor_acheampomaa
Originally published May 7, 2020