Kofi Awoonor; 13/3/35 - 21/9/2013

that Saturday,
the earth beneath Nairobi
thirsted for the poet’s blood,
& it flowed freely from his side

he had gone to story @ moja,
to blend his voice
into a choir of brethren,
instead his blood was called,
with a conclave of the innocent,
and he hearkened.

east Africa swallowed west in a
a quake of earth, in a curtain call
to the bark of primed munitions

this poet that had bled his heart
into the sump of peace,
now bled his blood too,
to oil a roiling Lake Victoria

drink in peace now, Nairobi

gourd of wine
called east by voices
too dear to deny,
he tilted onto the uttermost.
frothing wisdom, he
poured his last,
his dregs,
his sweetest wine
in a dram muskier than the
hate of westgate
and calabashed, broken
onto Earth, his brother

sleep in peace now, Awoonor

2 Replies to “Kofi Awoonor”

  1. Su'eddie says:

    Lovely, lovely, lovely. This is one of the finest tributes to Awoonor I read and I am not alone in thinking this. Expressing the views of a number who said so. Thanks for sharing Chuma…


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