Self Portrait

"I write when I'm inspired,"

A statement frequently whispered.

From the perspective of others

I have often narrated 

On love, betrayal, uncertainty and hope.

May 5, 1989

The first chapter of my book

Each chapter 365 pages

Sometimes 366

Totalling aproximately 1-1-3-2-3 plus 1 pages

Today, a new chapter begins.

Chapter 32.

How do I become my own inspiration?

And with my canvas, brushes and paint

How can this story be told?

A story riddled with highs of

Love, peace, success, and laughter

Or reminiscent of scanty episodes of despair, heartbreak and trauma.

As my brush, dipped in paint 

Strokes the blank surface

The outline of my face appears

A circle- significant of the cycle of life

A reminder of continuity

A progression from the past, to the present and to the future yet to be encountered.

These brushes ever so softly create my eyes

Deep, dark, unending shadows

Dancing to the tune of comical mischief 

A reflection of a spirit that can never be quenched

The windows to my soul.

Next, my nose appears

Slightly spread and somewhat pointed

This feature stands erect above the rest

A confidence to be admired

Leading me to overcome the most difficult of tasks.

My lips, ever so supple

Heart-shaped and thin

Conceal the most beautiful smile

A smile that easily appears 

Effortlessly exhibiting joy while gracefully hiding pain.

Then, I see my crown

Strong, black locks of hair

Magnificently intertwined

Into strands that can never be broken

Like Samson, I'm a conqueror.

Finally, a rich, intense shade of brown

Colour of the earth, yet called black.

A hub of melanin, I am protected.

Often mistaken for a teen- I'm unbothered.

Why? Because 'Black don't crack.'

Because of my skin, I am often scorned

Nevertheless, I stand tall.

This is my self portrait 

A story about me, my life, my journey

Chapter 32 is one page long

I pray it's worth a tale.

Love Grieves

 

I love love

I write about love

My go-to doodle word

I love love.

Yet, today, I've been betrayed.
By someone I truly loved.

By someone I said my vows to.

By someone I shared my body with.

Love is not an illusion 

And it's betrayal? Like a slow death.

There are lumps in my throat

My heart is heavy and it won't stop pounding

Blood pressure? Working overtime.

My stomach is in knots

It's stopped asking for food, for water.

Today, I am grieving.

It's like someone died.

I'm confused, I'm anxious, I'm scared

Scared of the unknown 

I don't know what to do

But still, I believe in love. 

Rose-Coloured Glasses

Please love me

Words of desperation?

Not exactly.

But rather, a longing

A yearning for yesterday
When I was your queen
Your pride, your joy
On your arm, you proudly wore me
Bright and new- for all the world to see.

I reminisce of time past
When I came before all else
When your best smile, thought and deed, for me were reserved
Of a time when peace, joy and laughter
Beautifully co-habited in a sacred place
Preserved exclusively for us
When love filled our hearts and intertwined our beings into a single existence.

With reckless abandon we exhibited our love
Our affection- boundless
In the world- the population was two
Number two- signifying me and you
Our world-complete-
The flame of our passion, inextinguishable
Like Simon and Daphne- for each other, we burned.

With the lapse of time and distance
A change happened
Seemingly non-existent at first
We brushed it off as dust on a warm harmattan day
Then the crevices became visible
Yet these were deemed insignificant
In denial, we built a garden of deception
Where we watered thorns that grew in the cracks of our love
To our garden we tended and with time it flourished
What a bloom! A perfect harvest of lies, tears and mistrust.

Then my rose-coloured glasses shattered
And with every tiny shard
My vision was restored.

Friendship

This piece was inspired by a statement a friend made in a WhatsApp chat: "Funny how we grow and old friends fall off and new ones come.."

Behold, my response:


Leaves of a tree.
Fall, winter, spring, summer.
And the cycle continues.
Sometimes, like a leaf preserved in the pages of a book,
We're able to hold on to the important elements of our todays for tomorrow.
And at other times,
The moments fade away
And stay but a memory.
Nevertheless, they help shape and mold us
For what is yet to come
In the mysterious unknown.

My Giant Sequoia.

-By Nana Afua Kumiwaa Asante (That's me). (December 28, 2019)

Dedicated to Prof. G K A Ofosu Amaah.

Towering. Huge. Mighty.

My giant sequoia- that’s you.

Unsure of whether to be scared or afraid

Nervous or petrified

In childlike awe

I approach you.

The image of you

So massive, so strong, so deep, so tall

It tells a story. A story of old.

Of times which I could only dream, read of or imagine.

A story of resilience. Strength. Power. Betrayal. Tragedy. Love.

The list goes on.

Storms weathered, battles fought.

Some lost, some won.

Whatever you face, you overcome.

At the sequoia, I need only take one look and wonder.

What lies within? What have you seen? What have you heard?

Should I go? Should I stay?

Which way do I tread? Which path do I take?

Its rings hold so many secrets, and indeed, one can only wonder.

Fortunately, with you, while you are my giant sequoia,

This is not the case.

I return over and over again.

A warm hug, la bise,

A listening ear. A few words, sometimes kind, sometimes stern.

In your presence, I feel at home.

I am content sitting at your feet

Tapping into your well of wisdom.

Under your gaze, I do not remain unchanged.

I am transitioning

And when this caterpillar fully transforms into a beautiful butterfly

I pray my memory of your influence never fades.

Towering. Huge. Mighty.

My giant sequoia you’ll always be.

Happy birthday, Prof. I love you.

Imperfection

When you're here
We love
Laughter, joy
The thrill of being together

When you're here
We spar
Yes, no, whatever
We can't stand each other

When you're here
While together
We're sometimes apart
But that's our perfect imperfection

Today, we say goodbye
On the brink of tears
Lump in throat
I miss you already

Being together isn't always easy
Neither are goodbyes
But if I am to choose
Give me the former

I wish you were here
With me, imperfectly together

Forbidden

For the Chocolate Lover... Enjoy!


Forbidden

While Anna Karenina is keeping me awake
You steal into my mind
I smile- is the time right?
'Let's wait till morning', I say
But I don't mean that
I never do- I give in

Dark, hard, sour
Not that hard- you melt at a point
Yeah, you do
The times when you're in my mouth
When my tongue wraps around you

Soft, creamy, sweet
Heart racing
Adrenaline pumping
I love the taste of you
But I can't have you all the time
You see, you're contraband
Forbidden

As much as I want to have you
I can't
I can't be seen with you
At least, not in public
Away from prying eyes and inquiring minds
Away from all who 'mean well'

You can't blame me
I'm hooked, addicted
And I'm not letting go
So for now, my Forbidden
I'll savour the moment
And again
Have you one more time