By  Kessie A. Amponsah



Creativity is a double edged sword; either way it will be expressed. Whatever its outlet, negative or positive, revelation is inevitable.  

It is absolutely, unequivocally vital to my being that I write. It is almost a death wish that stops me from expressing the truth simmering within. The longer it is left to ferment, the higher the temperature of repressed emotions rises until it has no choice but to burn its way out of my body.

Inside my mind, a stream of consciousness flows, a trillion images bob within its crystal clear waters. In my consciousness, a world ascends, a star explodes, and the debris of photons the colour of light and electrons of the darkest hue disperse through time and space changing the very fabric of this universe.

In my vision a little girl hides in a corner afraid and alone; a young woman filled with self loathing, gets ready to throw herself off a cliff, the world she has to share with 6 billion others just too harsh a place to bear. A young man whose very skin falls off his flesh comforts those around him whilst he prepares for the inevitable.

My mind’s eye sees the void that denotes the dark night of my soul, like a moth to a flame I am drawn inextricably towards the bright cleansing light that flickers in its centre. In this terrifying place, my only comfort is the knowledge that it is my destiny to emerge on the other side with a truth that will shake the world. Not the candy coated truth that permeates our society but the whole truth in its painful entirety. Inside my psyche, my dragon waits patiently for the ability to fly. Fury has my unlimited imagination exploding windscreens of cars trapped in traffic before me. Inside my body, the truth vies for release, its very presence shaking me to my core.

It is because I am weighed down by the ‘his’ stories of others that I held back from writing. Only the winners get to write history and the images and names of the conquered are chiselled from the walls of the temples and tombs. The end of the life line on the palm of my hand denotes when it is time to evolve. The legacy line suggests that I will also leave behind a story. Sadly procrastination has caused the legacy line to disconnect itself from my life line revealing that any hope for immortality may soon be chiselled from my flesh.

Armed with this double edged sword the choice now rests before me. Commit hari-kari, although I know that this time the action will carry with it no honour.  And watch those repressed energies which have long occupied my chest, like a thousand nesting pitch black crows, to finally break through my chest, pour out on to the ground and then rise like a sweet smelling offering to God.

Copyright, 2005, by Kessie A. Amponsah.  All Rights Reserved.

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