As silent as night’s footsteps was my arriving ,

And on the morning of my first awakening,

I smelt the salt on the sea breeze,

And heard roaring waves coming ashore,

Swishing past rocks and starfish as it left.


In Goa, large spiked bulbous clusters hung,

Heavily, menacing jack fruits matured sweetly on the tree,

And mangoes clustered, flustered red, yellow green,

And cashews, guavas, pineapples, oranges,

There I saw the ripening of purpose.


Flat guts ballooning, as grandmother stuffed them,

A gift for my mother and other kinsfolk,

Sausages curing in the wind and the sun,

Carried the aroma of vinegar and spices,

I was in the season of curing.


My father read and words leapt to life,

Fish caught in nets spoke, asking to be released,

And in return, granted boons of teardrop rubies,

And of Sinbad who brought home diamonds,

It was the time of awe and wonder.


Enveloped in old yellowed books,

Marinated in the sweet smell of time,

The anchored words lay in rows,

Like boats in the bay waiting, waiting,

To magically, whisk me away to distant lands.


I arrived in the fog of war,

And orange blooms filled the sky,

The acrid smell, smoke and dust everywhere,

I ask, how, why do you live here?

“In the season of hate, you go nowhere”.


From my heights I see afar,

Seeing the trees, the flowers,

The water rippling on contact,

As martin’s dive bomb the pond,

But, where are the hearts that love?


Empty abandoned houses and warehouses,

Shells, tombs and gravestones,

None walk midnight’s illuminated streets,

For the great darkness is abroad,

And a greater desolation in vacant hearts.

Promises ring like copper bells,

Mellifluous on the winds,

And to the rhythms of the blowing winds,

Waves of summer grass sway,

But neither brings the needed change.


Love grows in hearts shaded by sorrow,

And Mercy, in souls whipped by hate,

Whatever has been the season or state,

Or the moments that hide your goodness,

Adonai Eloheinu! we always remember your Love for us.


Be a Champion for the Poor



Gye Nyame  
Meaning: “Except God”
No one lives who saw its beginning and no one will live to see it’s end, except God. “
Symbol of the omnipotence and the omnipresence of God.
(Fear no one, except God.)
From the Akan of Ghana






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