Akan-mwanatechaab Abdul-Rauf
FEASTS IN ANCESTRAL BOWLS
The sun calms down at sundown,
Roofed under the shea tree I lay,
Reminiscent of wild adventures,
As high above me, sit birds,
With mellowing melodious tunes,
And caressing winds, lulling my eyelids,
While carrying along aromatic scents
Hovering around my upper lip’s hair,
Teases of ‘Mwanviak’ invites the soul,
To hasten to ‘Saab’ in ancestral bowls.
Cattle abandon green grazing grounds to gather,
Heading; herding themselves home together,
As I tread behind with shoulders braced of crook,
And a smiling heart at the sight of thatch roofs;
Dancing smoke races tremors down the soul
Of a shepherd heeding to calls of ancient bowls.
As we herd ourselves toward ‘kusung’,
Sight of fresh milk-pregnant old bottle,
Sparks Ululations from young voices,
And my face lights up in confusion:
To young mellifluous ululations?
Or to soul food’s invitations?
But as I take myself to ‘dabiak’
My dry heart dances in certainty,
To smiles of brim filled ‘chin and cheng’,
Sitting in wait to welcome home my soul,
As I honor calls of feasts in ancestral bowls.
@Akan-mwanatechaab Abdul-Rauf