I wake to a void
An emptiness and an ache
I am like the calabash without content,
The river without water,
The house without a tenant,
The president without citizens,
The bulb without light,
The beautiful valley without lilies
To what end can a smile travel to my face?
If only donkeys knew the land of wishes
I would have sat on one to take me thither
To fit the bone void from where I was lifted
To feel complete and at ease
Half flowers don’t bloom to the fullest
It yearns to touch and be complete
An empty house is no different.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014