Akosua

All my people are blue, resting
below the Atlantic’s mint foam,
or on her coast. Our Gods, too,
were swallowed by the sky.
In fallow graves, they lie.
My heritage is heavy
on my shoulders, a name
too thick for my tongue
to carry. So, let me carry
your God. Make Him mine too.
Let me borrow your clasped
hands, your chafed knees.
Here’s ten dollars for
an apple seed. Let’s build                       
new gardens, ripe and sweet.

Alixa Brobbey is a poet and law student currently based in Provo, Utah.