Signal Boost: "Exiles", by Kofi Awooner
So, I got this in my email today, from my friend almost never emails me (not a large sin, we see each other frequently). I think he'd probably like this to get more visbility - so, posting here for you folks who appreciate poetry far more than I can ever wrap my hands around.
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I remember why I fell in love with poetry. Kenyan Poet and Statesman Kofi Awooner died in the terror attack in Kenya yesterday. Here's one of his poems that I think is quite beautiful.
EXILES
Moon, moon shine on our way
Shine bright for us to go home.
The return is tedious
And the exiled souls gather on the beach
Arguing and deciding their future
Should they return home
And face the fences the termites had eaten
And see the dunghill that has mounted on their birthplace?
But their journey homeward done on the sea-scape's roar
Their final strokes will land them on forgotten shores
They committed the impiety of self-deceit
Slashed, cut and wounded their souls
And left the mangled remainder in manacles
Before the sacred altar, alongside the sacrificial cock
Whose crow woke the night sleepers at dawn.
The moon, the moon is our father's spirit
At the Star's entrance the night revellers gather
To sell their chatter and inhuman sweat to the gateman
And shuffle their feet in agonies of birth
Lost souls, lost souls, lost souls that are still at the gate.
-Kofi Awoonor
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I remember why I fell in love with poetry. Kenyan Poet and Statesman Kofi Awooner died in the terror attack in Kenya yesterday. Here's one of his poems that I think is quite beautiful.
EXILES
Moon, moon shine on our way
Shine bright for us to go home.
The return is tedious
And the exiled souls gather on the beach
Arguing and deciding their future
Should they return home
And face the fences the termites had eaten
And see the dunghill that has mounted on their birthplace?
But their journey homeward done on the sea-scape's roar
Their final strokes will land them on forgotten shores
They committed the impiety of self-deceit
Slashed, cut and wounded their souls
And left the mangled remainder in manacles
Before the sacred altar, alongside the sacrificial cock
Whose crow woke the night sleepers at dawn.
The moon, the moon is our father's spirit
At the Star's entrance the night revellers gather
To sell their chatter and inhuman sweat to the gateman
And shuffle their feet in agonies of birth
Lost souls, lost souls, lost souls that are still at the gate.
-Kofi Awoonor