It’s been 5 weeks to the hour

Most Mondays I feel

Lethargic all day

Headaches and body aches

I can’t explain

I can’t sleep most Mondays

Because I don’t want to

Wake to that fateful call

I don’t want to come collect your

Limp body from the third hospital

That did not have a bed

To begin the emergency care

That you so desperately needed

I don’t want to wrest shoes

Then socks then…

From your body


I still stalk your page

To see who else has just

Discovered your death

Who else is full of grief

And needs to share

Or say what a wonderful

Man you were

Your name used to stare

At me from my chat list

Every day for weeks

One day I signed in and you

Were gone

You had been idle too long

I freaked out because

I thought it meant family

Had deleted your page

I checked

You were still there

I want to download

Every picture

You put up

I want to keep you close


On Saturday, I went to

A Ghanaian funeral

I thought of you throughout

The service

Wondered how your service had been

How sad I was to find out that

Your family had streamed it

Wondered where you have been buried

And if I can come visit you

When next I come to New York

I thought of you at the graveside

Wondering how your mother felt

As the soil was thrown on your casket

As I stood watching the soil thrown

On my uncle’s casket

I wished I had been present for your funeral

I missed you so deeply

I had to walk out of sight of the grave

As the burial concluded and we walked away

I looked for a sign that

You knew I was thinking of you

And wouldn’t you know it

There was an empty packet of


That Monday when we had dinner

You had confessed that you were stressed

And that you had started the morning

with a Striker or two or…

I didn’t want to hear the rest of the count

So in the graveyard as I was walking

Towards the gate

I looked down and saw you

Smiling at me

I knew that you knew that

I was missing you


I’ve not written much lately

Well not much I want to share that is

Choosing instead to

Focus on my job search

My upcoming readings

Yet my journal pages overflow with my pain

Anger and frustration at a system

That does not work

For the average Ghanaian

Which is what you and I were


This f*cked up system that

Allowed you to die

In the back seat of a good Samaritan’s car


Today 5 weeks to the hour

Two weeks after

Your dust hit God’s dust

I sit tapping away

With a renewed vigor

Similar to that which you

Often gave me

Your words

You must write love

Tonight mine

I am writing love


I miss you

The ache goes and comes

Seeking refuge in my body

When it wills

I think of all everyone has said

It will be a long time

Before you don’t breathe with him

Sometimes I hope this long time

Is short

Sometimes I am scared

I’ll forget before it’s

The end of that long time

I worry that I’ll forget

That once I breathed

In unison with a person

Who made me feel

So alive and open

To all the world’s possibilities

I pray that I have the

Support I need to trek this

Mountain of grief

And to live out loud as you did

And love boldly again

With arms open wider than possible

Uninhibited as you taught me

10 thoughts on “5 WEEKS TO THE HOUR

  1. hmmmm Kuukua am filled with chill and empathy. May his soul rest in perfect peace and harmony. May our Heavenly Father continue to give you the strength and courage to go through many more Mondays. KAIBO

    1. I appreciate you writing when you read.
      I’ve wanted to have nothing to do with Ghana for the last 5 weeks,
      but everyone says it’s better to be surrounded by the family here than be alone in Ohio.
      See you soon!

I know you have something you are itching to say...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s