On the street where the soles of my shoes touch down
I wonder where you paced,
Did you look out upon the waves
And long for your grandmother’s face?
Was the world so different, then to now,
That we would not understand
The other’s view, the other’s soul,
Her journey through this land?
Did you feel the thrill of life and love,
As the boats at sunrise moored,
Before you set sail to somewhere new
With a hand so newly yours?
Did you wonder what would come,
That five from two could be?
Then many more hearts in time
To pace long after me.
Tag: loss
Let It Be Night
It’s dark with lights off
But the right way to be
With eyes open when nights
Are sad and strange
When the shapes in the room
Are the people you knew
When you were a child
So you get there again
And you’re back with the sounds
And the smells of a fair
And the touch of a hand
Might as well be right here
With the lights off.
Fear with lights off is
A fair way to feel
When your thoughts rule the air
Without any love
When they seek a hole
That you can’t get out of
Before you work out
That you like it in there
You walk through the graveyard
And relish the pain
If it’s all that you have
To feel closeness again
Time’s slow with lights off
And traps you inside
With all the dark secrets
You dodge in day’s light
Yet if that means you know them
Then let it be night.
Notes on hugs from my two ladies
All-encompassing hugs from my two ladies. Their weight I admired – me, the mathematician, the calorie wizard, the difficult guest at a dinner party and in general. Their joy and sometimes crankiness in life. The absolute void in their death. The void in my living. Rubbed out parts of the world as to walk around years on is to try to accept the forever change. Their weight, my stress was their love of cooking: jam and jollof. And every part was love. Her laugh was one loud ‘Ha!’ and smiles; her squeeze was to be reassured. You mattered. And her’s – The Big Love’s – were strong, as though to give me more than just my name. The final one was still warm. Gone, but I’d never be hugged again and my last memory is the one I took, knowing it was meant for me.
Sarah Lamptey 