See how well I hold grief

See how I cradle it

See    see    see

Somewhere a mother and son do not know whose tears wash down their cheeks

Their embrace is tight and I think of umbilical cords

I am the bearer of the news they do not want to hear

I have tried

Heaven knows I have

What do you do when you are the one person between this life and the one hereafter?

I am but human too

Flesh. Bones. Blood

But who said anyone cared?

I too hurt

But they say cura te ipsum


 

Head Count

Dark nights spew out days tired before they begin

 

Church bells ring and there’s a call to prayer

Six strikes, it is Angelus

The angel of the Lord declared unto the Virgin

 

This heart does not seek jaw dropping miracles

Not virgins giving birth to Gods

 

We awake. We’re all here

It is enough

Or is it not?

 

Mystery is what it is because we accept without question

Count your blessings, name them one by one

One ….

.

.

.

Henrietta Enam Quarshie

April 6, 2025

Physician Heal Thyself

HENRIETTA ENAM QUARSHIE is currently a medical doctor training in ophthalmology residency . She likes to think life is poetry. She comes from the Volta region of Ghana and grew up in its capital; Ho. Her works have been published by Wildpine poetry, Icefloe Press, Kalahari Review magazine, African Global Networks, Praxis magazine, Tampered Press and CWGS. Enam is a dog and plant mom, a reader and a passionate menstrual health activist. Find her bookstagram and micro poetry on Instagram @poetbyimpulse_reads. X; HenriettaEnam.