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.