Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them. —Oscar Wilde
I bring my mother a flower I stole from a neighbor’s garden. She says stealing is wrong, but keeps the flower. I say sorry, she says louder. I say I love you, she says okay. I ask if she loves me back, she says eat your food. I tell my teacher my father doesn’t live with us, she says too much information. I cry in class, they call it drama. I draw a picture of my house on fire, they say I have an imagination. I give my uncle a hug, he says I’m too soft. I stop hugging. They say I’ve changed. I love everyone with my whole chest, they say I’m too much. I start loving with one hand behind my back. They say I’m finally growing up.
Daniel Naawenkangua Abukuri
Daniel Naawenkangua Abukuri is a Ghanaian poet and prose writer. A Best of the Net, Pushcart Prize, and BREW Poetry Award nominee, his work has appeared or is forthcoming in Colorado Review, Chestnut Review, Transition Magazine, The Malahat Review, Minyan Magazine, A Long House, Protean Magazine, NENTA Literary Journal, The Poetry Lighthouse, and elsewhere. He is the first-place winner of the 2025 African Writers Award (Poetry), a finalist for the Adinkra Poetry Prize, and the fourth runner-up for the African Literary Prize. He was recently longlisted for the Renard Press Poetry Prize and selected as a fellow for the Obsidian Poetry Retreat.
