I was born in the Voice of poetry

I Was Born in the Voice of Poetry by Obed Yadzo I was born in the voice of poetry— a rhythm deep as mother’s prayer, a whisper carved from Ghana’s dust, Volta's breath, Ghana's flare. My cradle was a stanza’s edge, my poem, a line set free to unlock the prison gate Ink was milk; the page, my kin— from the start, I learned to see. I learned from him, my mentors voice , and he that was in me I have the story—not just mine, but of those whose names were never heard, the market women, the silent sons, the dreamers drowned in empty words. I was born , trained, and now bold to fight I suffrage not in silence, but in verse that holds their cries, for I have walked where shadows bloom, and dared to lift the skies. My future roars today because my past echoes in me, reminding me of the ages that I cannot really tell The struggle of the men is mine— the weight of hope, the push, the grind. Their calloused hands, their sleepless nights, are lines I etch between each rhyme. This...