Seclusion in abundance
An unhappy witch’s handicraft, perhaps
Collusion of voices of annoyance
Amidst vocals painting great ambience
Still secluded, a bad spirit’s doing perhaps.
Blow me cold, blow me hot
Blow me right, blow me left, perhaps
A good embrace awaits somewhere
Somewhere these eyes see not
To pull me to safety with a force of gravity
Higher than this aloneness.
Whatever has developed legs in my head
Needs exorcism to move
To another destination before doom falls on my world like manna.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014
Mum Cee 