
“The world was violent, I was learning, unpredictable and often cruel”
- “Dreams from My Father”
Yes,
a man
takes on
the powers
of whatever
he eats –
rotten food,
the sickness
it begets;
dog meat,
the loud
and strange
snarls
heard through
the thick
bullet-proof walls
of dreams
at night;
the crunchy
tangy taste
of roasted
grasshopper
while reaching out
to ensnare
the praying
mantis…
snake meat
is a rare
delicacy
best savored
with apple juice,
the direct
raw
fury of
God
rumbling
through
Eden's
groves…
the coldly
calibrated
purge of
those whose
flesh and
blood much
mulch
the land;
for guilt,
indeed,
is a luxury
that only
strangers
can afford…
in this land
of legion
mendicants,
kindness
is a drag,
a relapse
into sickness
and pain,
the sort of
peculiar pain
one no longer
feels,
save as one
fathoms
a neighbor
to feel…
Djakarta…
We came
with sacks
full of dreams
and left
with graying
noggins
full of wisdom,
pride and
deep
appreciation
for that which
we owned
before
we left;
the wisdom
of sharp
sullen
mosquito bites,
the need to
doing Dutch
amidst a
bumper
crop…
it was love
and friendship
that brought us
thus far
abroad,
the need
to re-love,
once our
primal love
had spent
itself…
7/27/09
By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.


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