Nungua & The Ritual of Rain

I Echo

at the end of it there is this thing—words;
we share them like sticks of smoke,
our lips black with abandon for writs
and tales yarned outside these shores,
too wet with the ocean’s salt for anything
other than balance. yes, it is raining again,
the month of May pregnant with mists.
the fisherman’s float rusts with inactivity
like an elder skin wrinkling to perfection
without the kiss of the sun. the muslins open their doors
to welcome the breeze to their beds, the epoch
of cleansing etched in like synthetic hair
to silk top hair toppers—the pleasures of life
held under the miracle of rain.
the children of Ògún, Umueri & Ga
Adangbe construct new games with names,
beads, cowries, & shells lined for jewelry
to crown their bond with more beauty,
as if there can be more beauty to this chimera.
the silence of the pubs makes a lake of this place,
and we drink from it—the unseen language
of the oddities of seaside Nungua. much ado about nothing,
we wait for the water to complete its ritual.

Note
The first line of this poem is from Kwame Dawes’ Longing for the Hall of the Deaf

I Echo

is a

Guest Contributor for Panorama.

I Echo is the pen name of Ghanaian-Nigerian writer Chris Baah who writes predominantly from Accra, Ghana. His works mostly revolve around masculinity, love, and connections. Dreaming of exploring the world, new cultures and new conversations, he hopes he can save the world by saving himself. He's on X as @AyeEcho

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