TWO CANDLES IN THE NIGHT

Two candles in the night burning bright, burning bright two candles in the night hold me tight hold me tight my flame is a glow the way I will also show two candles in the night burning bright burning bright

NIGHT OF CHANGE

The crickets chirped,

Birds twittered,

Stars twinkled through the night

This was no ordinary night

In the stillness you could feel the tension cut through like a sharp knife.

Men walked lightly through the high grass,

Creeping towards their goal

Women huddled together behind half open doors

Tears streaming down the eyes of those

From his house, especially his mother

“It is a beautiful night” the young man thought as he sat by the riverside

Lost in his thoughts

He had come home some days ago in answer to his father’s urgent call

He waited all day at his mother’s house,

 exchanging stories with is sisters and the other women in the house

No thought crossed his mind that there were no men about.

A branch cracked and suddenly he was alert,

He knew this area so well,

 but after many months who could tell.

Things could have changed, become unsafe

Suddenly there was a surge of branches forming a circle around him

The fear made his tongue feel heavy in his mouth

What enemy could this be?

He was grabbed and held firm until he stopped struggling

Voices in the darkness shouted

“You have no choice son,   you are the next king

This is your destiny

The elders have spoken,

God has decided

The new life begins”

 The tears that fell from  his eyes were not tears of joy,

They were tears of the realization that he would never be able to call his friends to go for walks and tease the girls.

He would never be able to walk into his cousin’s yard and say, “light the fire, I’ve got some yams to roast”

He would never be able to run ahead to be the first in the queue when the mobile cinema came to h is village

He would never be able to sit on the floor beneath his mother’s feet while he told her jokes and listen to his sister’s laughter

No more sneaking out to drink palm wine .....

This beautiful night became the unknown for a young man sitting alone

A young man who was now the king of the people

Who would have to follow the rules and traditions of his tribe,

A young man who became king on this night of change

DRY TEARS

Dry tears,

not falling down,

refusing to give relief,

to the ache inside,

refusing to heal

the disappointment  I feel

of a love let down.

Dry tears,

telling a story,

of love gone sorry

refusing to bring relief,

from the pain that can't be cured

by a doctor or another man.

Dry tears,

only by myself

can these dry tears,

become wet,

to wash away the disappointment

I feel of a love let down

Dry tears

(c)Mariska Taylor-Darko 2012

THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD

 Written in memory of Professor Kofi Awoonor, killed in Kenya 2013

We all know that the pen is mightier than the sword,

But some days ago the sword thought it was mightier than the pen

They lie bad!

The pen IS mightier than the sword!

Long after the ra ta tat tat of the guns have echoed away,

The ink from the pen would stay,

The words from the mighty oak would never fade away

The pen IS mightier than the sword!

Long after we've forgotten the names of those who welded the axe,

Long after their names disappear from memory,

The name Awoonor would stay,

The discharges of ink from his pen would remain etched in every one's mind

His death will open a gateway for others to do what they love

what they feel and what they desire - to be storytellers

The lie lie the idiots tried to feed us no go hold

The randomness of their sword chose a wrong victim because as long as we live, as long as we breathe, as long as we read,

our storyteller will live on.

The pen IS mightier than the sword,

Professor Awoonor, your last days were spent storytelling and creating

but your last day was not really your last day, but an ascendancy into another realm of storytellers long gone

They lie bad

Truly, the pen is mightier than the sword

They lie bad! Long live the pen of the Prof!

The pen IS mightier than the sword

YOU PROMISED

You Promised

You promised to let me know

When it was over

You promised, you promised

You promised to be honest

When you fell out of love

You promised you promised

You promised but 

I felt the changes months ago

You promised, you promised

But you told me nothing was wrong

You promised, you promised

Now I feel, smell and inhale the change

And still you promise and promise