Onyame

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you

have two pockets that sit

above

and in

the curves of your smile.

i scared

sacredly

scarcely look shallowly into.

nakedly i expose my soul

to search your soil full pockets.

your two pockets

that sit two stories deeper

than the ones that are

squished between my shorts and skin.

two pockets full of

gold and gravel

gem and stone

crystal and dust.

they have only been sort of sorted through.

so you can sort of express yourself

soulfully to souls who

sort of know you

and sort of care about you

but still don't care enough to

sort through the sorts

of pure

crystallization

mineralization

and refinement that you sort of know are there.

my flicked up fingertips with power

bent towards Onyame from

my prowess to prey

attached to this vessel

that was made for sorting.

like levers made for flicking

up to the surface

assorted gems in your soil.

i have him

Sun / Rā / Onyame

masculine in my left limbs

and he burns in holy silence.

Owia Kokroko: the greatness of the Sun

keeps distance between us for a reason

but when he steps out to make love to my body

and nurture my pores with light

i am taken away in a feverish trance

i learn my spirit dance.

the Sun i understand more than some

though they speak words

they fly past my ears like the air of Oya

who brings death to them

for they do not carry what she needs to create renewal.

i have her

Earth / Papatūānuku / Asase Yaa

feminine in my right limbs

she steps out from the ground

with a holy sound

she is a tribe within herself

holding tribes with herself.

long limbs of elegance for branches

as she moves to the force and current of the

gentle pushes from Oya her sister

left and right bodied

ready to bring you

balance you cannot bring yourself.

my arms already ache

elbow high in soil

ready to dig mine into yours.

they

taught us marriage by the ring

not root - western;

they tied and bind us to the man.

made man-made plans

that lacked any molecule of 'holy matrimony'

they called it.

helping them hold, heave and

sew greed into their gowns of our guts.

they

taught us marriage by the root

not ring - ancient;

we married to the land first

then to marry ourselves

together.

left and right limbed

heavy and hot

ready to bring help.

helping you heal, heave and

sew harmony into your skin of scars

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sioness
 
 

Sioness, the Aotearoa born Ghanaian creator, vocalist and communicator, through ongoing conversations with Akan-Akyem ancestors and Papatūānuku births healing. truth and movement within soul, sound and poetry.