These Shoes

The past unforgiving…
The present unhopeful…
The future unavailable…
Faith punctured and the demons of fear encouraged.
Head under water and breathing fine like a legend.
We still on track with these walking shoes like Mali’s music.
So this one is for those who loved with all they could offer but discovered they never really did matter.
For those who juggled hunger, lifeless pockets and unpassable exams.
Evading debtors and cursing lecturers…
For those who endured slaps from the sun, knocks from the rain and Daavi’s endless beans queues.
Or giving up in the hopes of your roomie’s rice only to be embraced by ECG’s favourite magic trick.
For those who prayed hard to become better and all the while lived with demons.
For those who stumbled into a gutter or another while winking at their crush.
For those who were told you didnt qualify as a DB because you buy beans and get a black polythene.
For those whose pride was perpetually damaged after an irrepairable gbaament.

This one is for my president, who supplies pampers and joy daddy bitters and doesnt understand why he is blamed for everything.
For those who believed they were beauty queens and realised they were evictees.
For those who pushed others to the top but were forgotten when it mattered…

This one is for my vice chancellor, whose…ermm lemme finish this sentence after graduation.
But this one is for those players and fans who wept tears of joy for a trophy they eventually never touched.
For the one who was given the beating of his life even though he swore he had powers.
For those who didnt know how their fees will be paid. And those who didnt know where breakfast, lunch and supper would come from.
This one is for those whose souls took the first bus to the hereafter and left us stranded in the pacific of our tears, R.I.P.

This one is for you and me. For he who has been rejected and laughed at. For she who has been hurt and disappointed. For all of us who have been written off and forgotten. This one is for everyone who never felt good enough and useful enough. This one is for Ghana. This one is for Gaza. This one is for 2014. This one is for my black brothers cut down by white bullets. For those who know and understand that until the olive endures the beating, the pressing and the shaking, no oil shall flow. This one is for everyone!
One day one day chale ego be!!
After all it’s just a matter of “kpa kpa kpa!!”
And oh yes this one is for you my love…thank you for breaking my heart and setting me free.
It’s cold outside and there’s rain inside.
My heart throbs with raw pain and my face melts into anonymity.
The struggle is real but I’m still on track with these shoes like Mali’s Music.

nana akyɛmpɔ ®


15 thoughts on “These Shoes”

  1. Go Nana
    Go Nana
    Charlie u are too much..
    This one goes to you.. the one who will shone exams Bokoharamed and Blog… Your reward is in heaven.. for u made mankind laugh…
    Boss Bravooooooooooooo….


  2. “The struggle is real but I’m still on track with these shoes like Mali’s music ”
    The pain is deep but there’s a two-edged sword that cuts even deeper, to seep out the pain and seed in joy . We shall surely overcome .
    Wonderful piece bro!keep it up


      1. Oh me dɔ wiase ɛyɛ nokware paaa… in fact fa wo horzap nomba ma me wae…me yɛ free small a I will whatsapp you


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