I wake to a void

An emptiness and an ache

I am like the calabash without content,

The river without water,

The house without a tenant,

The president without citizens,

The bulb without light,

The beautiful valley without lilies

To what end can a smile travel to my face?



If only donkeys knew the land of wishes

I would have sat on one to take me thither

To fit the bone void from where I was lifted

To feel complete and at ease

Half flowers don't bloom to the fullest

It yearns to touch and be complete

An empty house is no different.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014