IRE-LAND

You took me to the land of ire

Where there’s none called sire

And made me an ire-nian

And a natural believer of “Do

What the Romans do

When you go to Rome”

 

I had the eyes which hatred emoted,

Hands which easily smote,

Mouth which spat and threw fits,

Legs which stomped and kicked,

A heart which fumed and drove destruction,

A head which was overtaken by my environ

And obviously, a body which rested not

 

What fled from me, was my conscience

It left with my objectivity and good judgment

I was left with all kicks and hits,

All shouting and spewing spear words,

All hatred while I was completely deaf,

I never knew in the land of the ire,

None had ears

 

I tore clothes of trust,

Destroyed jewelries of reverence

And wore from head to toe,

The clothes of shame after I left ire-land

Now here I am

On my knees

My eyes lowered

My mouth shut

My heart sober

My head bowed

My heart coiled

One palm sitting on the other

The only parts helping

Are the ears which did not go with me

 

I am truly wretched

Please help me up

Wash me clean

And never send me to the Land of Ire

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014