Listen for My Name


 

 

Listen For My Name

 

If I had Listened for my Name I would have heard the Sweet Silent Saint Speaking & Calling of Destiny beyond my Brittle Brain.  I am a series of abandoned places and misplaced faces turning, churning learning.

If I had Listened for My Name I would have escaped the Family Plot and Indecent Mausoleum that keeps my bones on ice.  Dust would not have gathered in splotches and griefs within crevasses of spirit and soul.

If I had Listened For My Name my world would burst forth, setting free oceans of galaxies. Seas of synchronicity.

If I had Listened For My Name I would not have signed away my hopes and dreams into obligations and duties.

I would not be a lost one looking for a home.  Sequoias and sand bid me entrance. Forest and Green Hills bid me Welcome.

That voice though unintelligible yet distinct was getting louder and more insistent on being heard.

I a Scavenger of Blues  spread stardust seeds from journey seeking the Traveler.  An impenetrable Limbo foggy and heavy misty prior to a storm.  So difficult that staying afloat feels like drowning. My views are behind a steel cage.

The Storm arrives to clear the air.

Muddled Dreams and Visions receive clarification when passing through hurricanes and tornadoes.

For I am Most Awake When Dreaming.

 

Life Beyond, Behind and Through Green Cauls

 

Copious amounts of letters, alphabets, symbols and gibes fell to the floor.  Some fell into gestures others were barely held together by periods, adjectives, commas, semi-colons, verbs and apostrophes.  Weak chain links that were often smashed into derpish grins.

 

My Muse sprinkled the fallens with Holy Water and Anointing Oil keeping rigor mortis from settling in.  Here and There Muse Traveler plants and picks, prunes and shears. Preparing the landscape.

Mystic + Muse Join Forces with the Traveler Leading the Way Home.

My Name is planted deeply within foraging for nourishment.  Perpetuating eternal root systems

Once again I must Pray my Unconscious into Being.

 

This prose poem inspired by My Ghana SiStar and Sister-Friend  Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia 

https://amoafowaa.com/2018/01/26/if-i-had-listened-to-maame-crazy-stanzas/

 

https://amoafowaa.com/2018/01/27/%E2%80%8Bwhat-you-dont-see/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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