THE MASKED FELLOW

THE MASKED FELLOW
(on the death of a brother)
A masked fellow
Entered our home in June-
He came with
The footsteps of silence
And invaded Kwame's hut

Like his shadow
He followed him everywhere-
He feasted furtively
On his flesh and blood
And drank his soul
In silent sips

Time erased the image
Of the sojourner from our brains-
Kwame's smiles masted
The pain that boiled in his body
He had welcomed
Him obliviously

The owl never sang--
Stars gathered nightly telling
His beautiful destiny to the moon--
Until July descended
From the darkest cave of time

The smiles withered
To pave way for grief when
The masked fellow tied
Him to bed . . .

The owl's song
Drummed terror in our hearts-
Ate our brains and filled
Our hollowed skulls with worry

The sojourner
Had over stayed his welcome
The waterfalls that
Sprang in Kwame's face
Could never carry him away

We roved through
July and August-
Through thickets of thorns
Seeking to solve the mysteries
Surrounding the visit(or)
But we landed on quicksand

We stood sinking
Amidst  conflicting weapons from
A shrine
A church
And a hospital

The shrine was slaying
the messenger of a river goddess
The church sent fire on
the infamous family witch
The hospital rained drugs on a deadly virus

September came
To unmask the visitor--
He carried Kwame to where Papa
Went and has never been back--
Death himself

©Sarpong Kumankoma