An Elegy – Part 7 By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.

Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jnr., Ph.D.

(For Rev.-Col. Eugene Boapea Boamah Sintim[-Brown], Aka Kwaku Brown,

Asia 728x90

Retired Chaplain-General of The Ghana Armed Forces, 1941-2017)

 

When life

has deserted

flesh and

blood,

only memories

remain

like bones

when flesh

has been ripped

off by rot –

memory

into whose

dream-like

filmic realm

you have begun

to live

within us;

those of us

whom you left

behind

through whom

you shall continue

to live

and survive

through time

and the ages,

till you become

the stuff

of legend

like the rest

of those who

went ahead

of you,

those who came

before you

and like you

left

their giant

and indelible

footprints

in our minds

which we

celebrate

in times of

both grief

and joy…

Wofa,

I am

in large part

what I am

and what I

will still

become

in the years

ahead

because of whom

those of you

who came before

and went ahead

did become;

just as you did

become what

you became

or could not

become

as well

in large part

because of what

Grandpa Sintim was

and did become

by climbing onto

the broad shoulders

of Nana Ntim

and Nana Sintim

and Nana

Aboagye, our

direct ladder

of descent…

Death came calling

at midnight

Tuesday last,

Uncle Kwaku Brown,

but you could not

resist…perhaps

because it was

of absolutely

no use

to resist –

they tell me

it was cancer

of the prostate,

but that was only

the jargon

of those who only

speak

the tongue

of flesh

and blood;

the spirit speaks

a different

tongue

and dances

to rhythms

of different

drums…

there is more

to the known

and seen

world,

even more

to that

which is

unknown

and

unseen –

the funnily

pathetic things

we do

sometimes,

when we beat

our chests

like drums

and pretend

to own

ourselves

and our

lives –

last Tuesday

the real owner

of your life

came looking

for the same…

I was away

and did not

hear the knock

on the door

of your heart,

I suppose

in Heaven

the night before

they had been

talking

about the need

for you

to render

account,

having overshot

your stop

by six-times-twelve

moons,

when growing pains

begin to

set in,

at seventy-six,

it is only

by Her grace

we make it

awake by

moments of

breaths,

by each crack

of bone

and limb,

one’s vision

begins to blur,

it is time

to move on

to the other side

of this life,

time to wash

your hands

clean

and dine

with

the gods…

7/19/17

(RIP)

 

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