for K
the love poem outlives itself
like a stillbirth. something born.
something dead. hallelujah
for the Zion-haired poet
who will not let this poem end
like a mother’s joy at the graveyard
quiet of a delivery room.
the truth is, there is nothing
greater than a poem for a friend.
the thank you to God for being God.
the name of the stillborn, stone,
made into a necklace to serve
as a reminder for hope, that, the end can
always be rolled into a new story.
i am not a storyteller, K.
& God save me, i have
ran out of any love poem
like an old womb
incapable of childbirth
unless carved by the light
of God. the cold rainwater
whipping the thirst out
of the parched mouth in a hot condition,
so, i have written another kind of poem,
a poem for a friend.
the exegesis after the fire. may it last
like the baby asleep with life
in the arms of the mother
tired with joy.
I Echo
I Echo is the pen name of Ghanaian-Nigerian writer Chris Baah who writes predominantly from Accra, Ghana. His works mostly revolve around masculinity, love, and connections. Dreaming of exploring the world, new cultures and new conversations, he hopes he can save the world by saving himself. He's on X as @AyeEcho.
