Ghana

Ghana, you
Took my breath away
With your boisterous expulsions
Of welcoming,
Unsettling in their sincerity,
With your eyes,
Like water and oil,
Like the earth bubbling.
Did I dream you,
Flightless land,
Your gardens hot like mouths
Your hopes sunning themselves
In the unimpeded light?

Are these the words, then,
That I have left of you,
Dipped in the sweetness of nostalgia,
Homesick for a home
That was never mine?

© K Paige Medina 9/18/2016

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Cinnamon Afternoon

What is this magic–
This calming of light,
Cooling itself into gold?
What, then, this alchemy
Bubbling greenery into
Fire and sunsets?
What the cinnamon afternoons,
What the transference of life
Suddenly from skin into sky,
The brilliance of time
Passing gently
Into an older light,
A quieter music,
A distant and welcome memory of home–

© K Paige Medina 9/16/2016

The Last Few Days

Did I give up love
For this arranged marriage,
This stranger,
Cackling,
Broken,
Embracing me with her fear?
What, then, is love
If in the midnight throes of this
Strange body’s upset,
I suddenly feel myself discovered,
Bound up in a mistress
Who is myself
And my wife,
Who is not any of us?
This dark thing,
A creature of my own design,
Brought to life by the echo
Of my own discontent.
Villain of my own heart,
Harpy with my voice,
Must I love you?
Claw out my eyes and make me profess your beauty.
For I am but a soul adrift
In the vastness of your witchery and theft,
Beckoned, drowning,
Down
Into the hell of your heart.

The golden light of longing
In the dark of discontent
Has led my feet too many times
From the path for which they’re meant.
The call of something better
From beyond a wayward turn
Sets my heart to promises
And my restless feet to burn.
It’s the strange impossibility
Of hope beyond defeat
That keeps me walking forward
Towards mirages in the street.
You called yourself a prophet
But the harder task is still
To calm my heart to silence
Through sheer force of will.

Romantic though the thought may be
To wander on forever,
There never was a lonelier road
Than this, stretched, ending never.

It’s the fire knowing it is not the smoke.
It’s like all the yeses in the world saying no.
It’s being all alone at night
And saying this is still alright,
That’s called home.

We’re just shadows of ourselves, darling.
We sit and stare at the beginnings of ourselves.
And when we look into the sky
And we’re only asking why
When we’re waiting for the answers
Then we’re home.

It’s like watching the rain
And seeing oceans.
It’s like when we laugh and all we hear are tears.
All the patience that we’ve given,
All the faults that we’ve forgiven,
Are we moving toward the end
Or are we home?

Don’t tell yourself you’ve never been in love.
Don’t wait because it’s never been enough.
When you’re wishing for a dream
That never asks for being seen,
If you’re looking for yourself,
You look for home.

©7/15/2016 K Paige Medina