The Journey Poem by Kojo Owusu

Eddies of the hearth whirled behind
Me when I deserted the hut for your
Benign showers. I could hear the
Despairing noises of those shadows as
They furiously entered the dark fissure
Of the muddy wall. Angered shadows
With a vague prescience of my fate.
The threshold crumbled and lightening
Struck the eaves and the rafters.
A harrowing storm rendered the
Folks homeless. They were angry
With me. They burned with hatred
As they realized that I was leaving
Them. But the land was hit with
Drought and the new well we dug
Worsen the situation. I was not happy.
My soul was thirsty for your showers.
The waters of immortality. I went
To the priest to strengthen me with
His potent herbs to embark on the
Long hazardous journey. I told him
To do something for me to overcome
Any impediment that I would encounter
On the way. My leg hit a stone when
I thought of embarking on such a journey.
A serpent nearly blinded me. Nightmares
Haunted me. Once on the banks
Of the sacred stream with my people,
I suddenly crossed the stream to the
Other side. Their mournful cries pierced
The air. They moaned and groaned for
Me to join them again but I refused.
My snares in the deep recesses
Of the forest trapped animals
Of ill omen. My existence became
Tortuous and my fears and problems
Became insurmountable. But I was
Resolved to be at your rocks where
The waters of life falls. Where I knew
My heart would be satisfied. Where
I knew I would not suffer any bruise
Strangling and diminishing the soul.
Where I thought of etching my heart
On your rocks forever. But was I
Enchanted by your beautiful brows?
Now I am disenchanted. For the
Falling have nothing benign about
Them. It was rather malignant and
Treacherous drops falling like
Showers of blessing. Your rocks are
Rough, rugged and barren, hard to climb.
Everything about you is far from pleasing.
Far from soothing. You have devastated me.
You have blinded me. Now I am wandering
In a dark hole. I cannot go back home.
Even if my hut had crumbled and my people
Ruined, why can’t I go home and sit amid
The ashes and hear the comforting melodies
Of the birds? Why can’t I go back home
To my own wasteland? Wandering here
Is more painful, hard. My charms has since
Long become worn-out. My mind is in
Turmoil. I have being hurled into the
Bottomless pit. But I would wander
Aimlessly on this void, on this waste
And I believe one day, I would be
At my ruined hearth.