beauteous and swift

What pairs of eyes claiming sights that blind the mind, sights claimed as truth, sights my foot, sights over my dead body, sights that our brother lies closed, folded and enclosed? What untowardly gavel sounding yanks the heart and its strings, unseating handsome voice and love for country and the people? What trick is this the gods have up their sleeves, chancing upon us guards down, folding away our beauty dreams, snatching pacifiers from the toddling groping tunnels for broken light switch? What mournful horns and sorrowful drums mistakenly, indelibly mark the night sky? The grief-stricken air void of color nails the untenable; beauteous, royal and swift, restless, alive with color, goodwill and largesse, work and happiness and rising voice of home here lies closed, folded and enclosed. What belly of the whale brings forth this casket in which our brother? Our BBC come to tropical country home to lie in state, lie in state after which state burial. What belly of the whale brings this forth? What assembly of noble Volta chiefs in proud mourning cloth? The chiefs, their linguists bare-chested beat their breasts in regal disbelief; their attendants pole-vault the night with tributes. What presence of mind in black lace en vogue composed, composed and decorous though a breaking heart? Our brother humble and larger than life, velvet baritone, remains eyes closed, arms folded and enclosed. He was a king, our brother. Torgbui Tenuvi Afetor. He is king and so he lives, our brother; he lives beauteous and swift.

komla dumor, Torgbui Tenuvi Afetor.

beauteous and swift

by amma birago