Eternal goodbyes are like pinches in the abdomen

Now I see there are lots to worry about

As Grandma Bombay lies still in the arms of the faceless

And the tears for her flows like the Kintampo Waterfalls

Many bring their wallets, empty

Hoping to refill 

Even water in sachet cost more than an average salary

Even an electrician wants more than the matron

Citing faults

As eaters fuss over not getting any

When their mouths are like food stores

As the matrons cook,

Grandma’s spirit, I think, went and brought many ghosts

To come and hide behind her relatives

To ask for foods, drinks and whatever can travel into the stomach

And if one ghost is dissatisfied, chaos breeds

Only a broken pot of food puts them to rest

What is our fault?

Sending a loving person on a journey to rest

And providing all that is needed for her good rest?

True, one man’s spoilt farm, is another man’s good scrap find

The Lord must judge this

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


6 thoughts on “FUNICASH

  1. My Dear Amoa, that is quite Emotive. I have always been a dunce with regard to poetry. Also, knowing the background would help. …’one man’s spoilt farm, is another man’s good scrap find.’ What one man thinks is a waste is found by another person as very useful and worthwhile. Very True.

    All that is very true. And needs to Change. I see You are a great instrument in this change. You are a powerful writer.

    I could not understand Grandma Bombay’s role in the poem.

    Hearty Regards.


  2. Beautifully written!

    By the way, you’ve been chosen as one of today’s nine blogs in That’s So Jacob’s Ninth Month Blog Challenge (! I challenge you to find nine blogs you find interesting and give them a comment to brighten their day…well, eight other blogs and mine 🙂 Copy this message in your comment and enjoy your new blog friends!


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