I lived in the pocket of empathy
…always wearing spectacles of sympathy
I wore the clothes of a mother
…as a child, and paid all bills like a father
From the stone quarry to street hawking
From a maidservant to chop bar cleaning
I did it all for sixty toes
…without seeing foes
I’m now at the point of solivance
II
I choose me
The woman housing the little girl forced to act tough
I now choose me
The homosapien who has taken care of all
…with no hands to catch her fall
I choose me
The magnanimous body which saw to all
…but her needs
I choose me
The me who is from nothing to something
…hoping to be everything
III
And none can throw a stone of blame
And push complains to rain a shame
…on my very being
…which now wants to be seen
…by me
For as a hanging thread fell to rot
… because the knitted cloth in aggression forgot
…it held it seams together
So must a heart on a good path, seek its well-being
…to be able to live longer
IV
As every step leads to a mysterious grave
So must every thought think of memories in need of a save
Oh how pathetic it’ll be
To be whisked by the hawk of death
…like a helpless chick, only to think from your birth
…all that you did for all
But find no grace and pampering you showered on yourself
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 12, 2026.
8 replies on “SOLIVANCE”
Love you, sister…just as you are, without expecting you to do anything for me…pity the users who are just big, dumb babies, needing someone to swing them to soothe them, bathe them, dress them, feed them, protect them, and never grow up to realize that the love poured out on them comes from actual human beings and not robots to created to serve them. Better to be the one keeping the wheels on than the one who needs those wheels to move because they are unable to walk.
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♥️🙏🏿
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Amazing poem
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♥️
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Very nice. Keep up the good work!
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🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿
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Very nice. Keep up the good work! 🌹
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🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿
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