Threnody for Kofi Awoonor
By
Echezonachukwu Nduka
Friday, November 22, 2013.
When
journeys begin and end at the beginning,
We question the place where life
vanished.
When a flowery pen’s ink was
snatched and spilt;
Westgate’s mall melodies turned
sour.
For this passage, cries and tears
bear testimony.
Inks of bards wail and chant dirges.
Kofi,
Yours was not a war of words, but
thoughts
so rich and rare. Flowing from your
fount of poesy,
They touched thirsty tongues and
filled
minds with wit and foresight.
Kofi,
Your eyes are closed, but open.
Your ears are stopped, but alive.
No bard bows to death wholly.
You have left earth’s crust.
But your works are born again.
Sleep; may you find rest in these
songs.
Send to a friend |
View/Hide Comments (0) |
