top of page

"In Blood, Sweat and a Glimpse of Hope" by I Echo



In Blood, Sweat and a Glimpse of Hope


“we will walk through darkness till daybreak” — The President who never Was


Angels, gather. Sing hosanna to the Most High.

A country is now a 100m race with a Champion

who will wear diapers & aim to run faster than Bolt.

We don't have to guess his outfit 'cause we know

the only brand that can contain the speed of light

to teach a country the difference between day

and night is an agbada that covers bones over-

shadowing flesh just as the sun overshadows

electricity to the point high tension lines become

driers for washed clothes and bodies to receive

fresh air and sparkling sunlight. The economy is

paraplegic and infrastructure is in crutches but

the first thing he must do in the race is to hit

the ground running even before "on your marks."

Manifestos are swill-supping man-dog-fucking porn

-ography so the second thing to do is continue

running although his eyes hold scales to cloud sight

that college is not elementary school where money

is harvested from a mother's wrapper and the finger

-ing 4 years does to a brain is enough to last

for a lifetime. Shall we pray.~ God save the president

that wears diapers whose third plan is "Don't rest."

Eyes that cannot tell a mic from ice cream must know

what rest looks like— A depravity that has sockets

carrying bags enough to make a child wonder

if a presidential statement is an incantation

from odùduwà's rest or a statement that yes a country

is a race but maybe a drag race. Where tribe is worn

on skin and is a guillotine blade chopping off sanity

to weave barbaric woe into pun. Confetti is popped

champagne glasses clinked and still I can't tell

if after bodies turned to apostrophes for hours

feeding on stench from unwashed bodies & sordid

breath was enough for lots to be casted into swines

like the Christ did or maybe just maybe a successor

to Usain Bolt had enough running juice to run

a country infinitely and utterly into the ground–

the neverending divine comedy across all seas.




I Echo is a Ghanaian-Nigerian journeyman writer writing to save his life.

Previously published under the name "Chris Baah," some of his works have been published or are forthcoming in African Writers Magazine, Kalahari Review, New Note Poetry, among others.

He tweets on @AyeEcho

Yorumlar


bottom of page