SON
(For Kwame)
“And she sang mournfully
her voice shaking deeply,
regret mixing remorse,
sorrow with recollection.
She trembled,
the whole room trembled,
the door cried
the chairs bent slowly
looking for him
hoping for him
not seeing him.
Then we all went aside
splintered points to a circle
linked by a single cord:
sorrow, like the gray clouds
and we wept alone
together**”
Kwame N. Dawes
EDITOR’S NOTE
Source: ArchiviNG (Nigeria Magazine, 1 January 1987). This archival presentation preserves the poem and its original attribution.