Man in the cradle
They had consoled him,
sheltered him, shielded him
from the frowns of turmoil,
and so he easily believed...
that life was easily easy,
that he could rest, forever
and drink the cider of laziness
Now he possesses a bearded bib,
a baby calmly disguised
in the form of maturity,
he presently lives
with a castrated conscience
Every since he learned to walk,
everything has tasted like milk,
so sweet so enticing,
anything he wanted,
there it was;
this, in fact, was the magic of care
and now, being himself
is foreign, because lullabies
continue to cuddle his mind,
and belittle it to
childhood again,
the rise and fall
of a mentality never allowed
to walk,
still cries...
and hopes that lullabies
of joy, shall again, cuddle him.
By Kakraba Afful
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