To be
Photo: Silas Sousa
I was born into the Quran’s environs. My documents are in Arabic. The coastguards screamed—that I came with fire dancing on my lips, came to entertain pedestrians, coal dancing the tango with match, to trap their city underneath a smoke storm. I had a wry accent, so my mission was probably to make their skies defecate bombs and tear gas.
I was only seeking refuge.
Befuddled, I marched to the song of home. Where is home? Is it in my navel, the axis of unwarranted shame or down in my anus, a pit of stormy seas of bigotry? The guard whispers to his colleague in a tongue I’m too familiar with, the one whitened with otherness, the one crusty at the tips, wreaking with unnecessary hate. To him, I will always be a beggar, the debris that humanity deserves to set a match to, an abomination, a Salem witch rightfully accused, a rodent to be pummeled.
Is it a crime to want to settle, to want to belong, to be?
The air reeks of ash—opinions of dead folk screaming to be understood. I am not a terrorist. I am not a narrative. I’m human. And I deserve to be.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Agyei-Yeboah is an artist from Accra, Ghana. He quit law school twice to pursue a creative degree. Now a first-class honours graduate of English and Theatre Arts from the University of Ghana, he has work published/forthcoming in many literary magazines. He was long-listed for The Totally Free Best of the Bottom Drawer Global Writing Prize 2021 from The Black Spring Press Group, UK. He was also shortlisted for Ursus Americanus, 2022 and was a finalist for Harbor Editions, 2022 (Small Harbor Publishing). David writes music and sings as he sees music as an extension of his poetry. Wish him luck as he attempts to record a debut album in 2023. He scarcely tweets @david_shaddai and posts mini covers on Instagram @davidshaddai.
