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| Fredua-Agyeman Nana |
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Chapter #: 2
Updated On: 26 December 2005 - Words Count: 484 - Number of Reads: 266 |
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Visions And Voices
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Crawling on the shore
In tattered apparel;
Reticent about my squalid thoughts,
Recounting my reminiscences
To forge my future,
I saw:
The mornings of the day;
The horizon where the sea
Shares boundary with the sky;
The orangey sun casting its first shadows
Solemnly on the serene sea
In this world of toil and sorrow.
A gust of wind,
More like a blizzard,
Blew past me
Lifting my feet off the ground
And sending my lanky body
To the sandy ground.
My brain in a cyclone revolves.
Then
I saw visions
Swirling in the higher skies:
I saw the widow’s storehouse
Overflowing with grains;
I saw the embodiment of peace
Blowing over war-torn nations;
I saw a city of gold
Emerging from the debris and cinder of war;
I saw Black Sheep
Fostering White Kids;
I saw the impecunious
Giving alms to ‘them’.
Fading...
Fading...
Fading...
Just as these visions were
About entering into oblivion,
I heard numerous voices
Saying:
“In the lowliest vale, came forth I-
The deprived!
Yet leave me not to suffer that fate.
For on the zenith of the mountain
My vision resides”
In anarchy from what I heard,
A cry, sounding like an echo,
Buzz somnolently through my mind:
“Among the chickens, raiseth I-
The eaglet!
Yet my playground
Is in the storms of heaven,
Hence pluck my feathers not,
For I am determined to dive
Into the storms.”
Unable to reconcile
The visions and
The voices
In this seemingly apocalyptic state
I heard a piercing resonating voice
Sounding a note of warning and commissioning...
“These visions I give thee
As an emissary of hope;
An elixir of transformation;
But with these voices I warn thee!
Visions remain visions
Without a mission.
The mission I give thee is in
The voices thee hath heard.
Do not quail!
Go preach: help ye one another;
Tell all to be selfless to the heart
And the visions shall be manifested.
The path that lead to treasure,
Is found by those with the vision.”
Waking up I found myself
In the throes of chains.
“You are crazy”, they retorted in unison.
After narrating all that I heard and saw
Their ‘worst’ fears were confirmed:
To their selfish mortal ears,
It sounded like an idiotic screed;
“You are really crazy”, they reiterated.
“A harbinger of doom” one said.
Who is crazy? The one with
The vision and
The mission? Or
Those who preach virtue and
Practise vice in disguise? Or
Those who persecute the visionaries?
Squirming in this quagmire,
The vision and the mission
Are being pushed into nothingness
By these liars in hypocrisy.
The treasure is thus being forfeited.
Who would hear me!
Who would understand me!
Who would unchain me!
To make manifest the vision
Which is descending into the abyss,
To make known the voices
Which is buzzing my stapes. |
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LITERARY 
