Nana Yaw Sarpong

The possibilities lie in our hands.
We should not drop them when the winter
Sets in, when the sun scorches, and
Leaves us with slippery fingers
For on such many nights, your stomach—
It will knot screaming on a lonely mountain:

Fear is a strange visitor lurking at the back
Never courageous to come in full glare

When dusty winds blow into our eyes
We wait, weary, yet our oars remain strong
Touching the Atlantic, connecting our minds
Knowing full well that our paths
Shall dare to hug
Even if, for
A
Short
Space
Of
Breath.

Nana Yaw Sarpong