And Then It Dawned on Me
Never did I think mango juice
free falling from my lips
would be so bound to my liberation
Queues for waakye my cue to return home
Ocean waves an ode to the ways the Lord has made for me
2016, I spent a Sunday evening in July making greasy jollof that even the dogs under cars in
Accra’s hot heat would probably leave in the pot
2018, I spent four months studying abroad in Ghana
and Marg-Tee’s jasmine rice coated in stew told me
jollof just isn’t jollof without a little bit of nutmeg
The air in the night market told me that I was safe there
Free to eat as many unrefrigerated eggs on sweet bread as my stomach wanted
Speak my fragmented Twi and Ghanaian English with no fear of being told to “go back home”
Because I already was
Am
I don’t think it’s too far away of a place when it’s etched into your heart your blood
Even if you hit your Azonto out in the Bronx
your Shaku in New Jersey
Even if you gotta leave Togo, your ears will recognize Ewe everywhere you take them
This here be the tissue that connects
the marrow your bones save for tomorrow
Glass beads be a reminder
that with the heating comes the healing
So it’s no wonder your soles drift home against soft sand on an African beach
Someone had to have dropped a coconut on my head because I must be dreamin’
Everybody here looks like me
Skin marinated in melanin
Shining from local shea butter
In 2018, literature was decolonized in my classrooms
Ayi Kwei Armah became an uncle of mine
and Ayesha Harruna Attah my first cousin
Your soul can rest here
It’s 2020 and I can’t even begin to tell you how many dreams of yours can come true
with just a handful of cedi
How one touch of Mother’s love
land
wax...print
can free the bars from up off your mind
Your happiness and crafts soon to coincide
You ain’t gotta run this rat race to know what wealth looks like
Buy into neocolonialism’s schemes
or sell your soul for an office in Trump’s sky tower
This is as close to perfect as one could ever get
You ain’t gotta wait ‘til heaven to feel it here
Clap because your aircraft survived the clouds
Step onto the soil
And even then
even if you can’t,
open up a soft and sweet plantain that’s wearing a protective layer of black
listen to a lion utter your own family history
Your spirit will let you know when you’ve finally made it back home
