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In a Seaward Trance

By Kwaku Darko-Mensah Jnr.

I think about my debut meeting with the sea,
Which happens on the shore of some magnetic dream.
The rugged side of the coast, empties my life of ghosts

Rips the scorn off my flesh

The minute I’m born, I beg to leave;
A chronic longing for far-flung openings.
Our mother, knower of all things, says I’ll one day leave

And grow sick of leaving.