YOUR TRICKS

They are boiling, boiling like angry waters
From the pits of your stomach right up to the lid of your head

II
They are boiling, I know they are boiling
That rejection water I served in the calabash of your ego
Burns right through your throat
And is raising monstrous hatred
Boiling you unwholesomely whole
But please rest easy

III
If you take your time to look at it
What boils inside that being you are
Is like a Fante kenkey
The leaves of anger with spine of need
And the rubber of loss
Covering your supposed kenkey of love
Mr. Lover, please rest easy

IV
A man is a man who drinks from the calabash of rejection
And takes the stance of a handshake
Deciding between the paths of parting and persistence
Not the one who builds words into stones
To serve back through his catapult of bitterness
Thinking it salve on his sore ego
He is not a man who builds foot-soldiers to taunt
Thinking to show his clothes of a warrior
To cower pride into a fall in his palms

V
Let not those eyes see a weak damsel in my stand
I am Agowa’s Abena Amoafowaa Jemremedua
The fiery queen who never breaks in a bend
I am Sefa Mansa Tawiah
That third spirit protected by the spirits of nta
I am that she who sees through even the egoistic walls of Jericho
On manly nations, let not my silence you deceive
Your tricks are but amusement jokes
Luring me into a state of fun and ties-cutting
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © March 29, 2019