A Requiem for The World and Other Poems (The Foreword)
by Darko Antwi
I thought I had walked into a forest; dense with woods, virgin soil, natural shelter, some familiar wildlife and various unknown species. But I was rather reading A Requiem for The World and Other Poems, which took me through a kaleidoscope of scenes: trail of thought, which are demographic of the importance of life and the idiosyncrasies of death.
In handling a subject of sacred nature, it is fairly typical of author Prince Kwasi Mensah to rule his phrases with idioms and allegories. And very well to expectation, each chapter is spruced with fibers which fasten to the soul of the central poem like a harness. In the central poem, the speaker is repeatedly worried about Earth which 'is being devoured by Sheol.' And based on a sequence of events, he fervently asks: Where is justice? Where is mercy? Where is hope when we call out loud for them?
In addressing the character of death, within the multiplicity of accusations, there are swings of mood and fluctuations of thought, but the quest for salvation or humankind's perpetual stay on earth is a theme that runs consistent to the prognosis of the requiem: Death must bring change / Or else it will be for naught – / We shall cry out loud until games of power and avarice cease.
by Darko Antwi
I thought I had walked into a forest; dense with woods, virgin soil, natural shelter, some familiar wildlife and various unknown species. But I was rather reading A Requiem for The World and Other Poems, which took me through a kaleidoscope of scenes: trail of thought, which are demographic of the importance of life and the idiosyncrasies of death.
In handling a subject of sacred nature, it is fairly typical of author Prince Kwasi Mensah to rule his phrases with idioms and allegories. And very well to expectation, each chapter is spruced with fibers which fasten to the soul of the central poem like a harness. In the central poem, the speaker is repeatedly worried about Earth which 'is being devoured by Sheol.' And based on a sequence of events, he fervently asks: Where is justice? Where is mercy? Where is hope when we call out loud for them?
In addressing the character of death, within the multiplicity of accusations, there are swings of mood and fluctuations of thought, but the quest for salvation or humankind's perpetual stay on earth is a theme that runs consistent to the prognosis of the requiem: Death must bring change / Or else it will be for naught – / We shall cry out loud until games of power and avarice cease.
The resignation to fate is not wholly
acceptable, and definitely not so convincing to the living. There seems to be a
formula: a tripod of consultations. As copied orderly below, speakers in the
various poems have made resounding calls on divinity, healers, and celestial
bodies:
I have been robbed of
the best thing
In my life, I want it
back, I want it back, O’ God,
I want it back! [Page
129]
Where are the prophylactics? Where is
Where are the prophylactics? Where is
The healer? Where is the herbalist?
Who has the secrets of venom?
Who can reverse this death? [Page
49]
O sun, you watched this happen
And never helped?
O wind, why did you not
speak
For my friend when his
life was being taken?
O earth, why did you
choose to sit still
When he fell onto your
bosom? [Page 156]
Seeing that 'lives are discarded like trash', the requiem rages on with fiery
rhetoric and resolutions. Extending the image of death in Foreboding,
the poet describes a scenario where 'Shadows and shades increase' and where
'Light recedes,...' and 'fades Into an accepted darkness.' However, there is a pleasant
forbearance in the Obituary Poems.
Assuming a rarity of deliberation (much in difference to the second chapter),
the set of eleven verses fold themselves into a concentration of beliefs from
the spirit world. In essence, this section of Mensah's poetry reads into the
psychological position of a non-physical being within the dynamics of the
cosmos. That is not at all strange - but discerningly reported - knowing that
almost every culture of our civilized world signs up to an engaged relationship
between the living and the dead. Thus, a relationship legitimized by classical
mythology, folklore and narrations of faith.
Written in the
instinctive voice of the dead, the Obituary Poems have themes which defy
anger and distress; seeking to arrest the negative images of death. While
serving as a communiqué from the land of the dead, the poems admonish, teach,
and console people who grief or are puzzled by the physical termination of
humans; most certainly, beloved ones. Above all else, the poet inspires a sense
which drives home: that consolation is fundamental to the human soul. In
consolation we find solace, and in solace there is healing, and after healing,
life goes on refreshed by the spirit of the verses.
A better consolation is
when, from a distance, we could hear the voice of an erstwhile breast cancer
sufferer who died young during her undergraduate studies. A better consolation
is when we could hear her in the words of Freedom: 'The skies are open
arms in which I bask – / I am now free; / no one takes me to task – / My voice is one with the voices of the wind /
This is a freedom I shall not rescind'. A far better consolation is when we
could hear a departed relative as the speaker in The Appointment: 'Let
not the certainties of death steal hope, / For we humans are strong, we always
cope – / Let moments be
complete with memory, / The appointment comes to make us history.
Whether we die young or old, whether we die poor or rich, whether we die fulfilling great assignments or dragging our feet in humble places, whether we die peacefully on a sick bed or on a battlefield, or by suffocation in a gas chamber, whether we die famished by hunger or bloated to obesity by bulimia, the radar of this book does not only attempt a reunion with the living, but it is sensitive; both to the pleasure (livelihood) of the spirit world and the pain through which the physical world either collapses or endures.
At the reach of the second chapter, the book turns more dramatic when realized that the eleven elegies do not merely translate the sorrow of persons traumatized by the events of the perished. With regards to picturesque diction, the Elegies are, of course, deliberate in engraving the natural experience of intense sadness. Although the language is not literally applicable, Mensah explicitly addresses realism: about the common fate of humanity, and nevertheless, the evocative response at the other end of the cycle.
Whether we die young or old, whether we die poor or rich, whether we die fulfilling great assignments or dragging our feet in humble places, whether we die peacefully on a sick bed or on a battlefield, or by suffocation in a gas chamber, whether we die famished by hunger or bloated to obesity by bulimia, the radar of this book does not only attempt a reunion with the living, but it is sensitive; both to the pleasure (livelihood) of the spirit world and the pain through which the physical world either collapses or endures.
At the reach of the second chapter, the book turns more dramatic when realized that the eleven elegies do not merely translate the sorrow of persons traumatized by the events of the perished. With regards to picturesque diction, the Elegies are, of course, deliberate in engraving the natural experience of intense sadness. Although the language is not literally applicable, Mensah explicitly addresses realism: about the common fate of humanity, and nevertheless, the evocative response at the other end of the cycle.
Based on the knowledge
of triviality, of the acts of death, humanity is consequently empowered to overcome
the fear of death. Discussing the fear of death in an
appreciation, the Ghanaian critic, Dela Bobobee, wrote: 'The effect of fear is
so overwhelming that when not conquered one way or another, it shackles man in
a perpetual bondage'. Contrary to the adverse, this book takes us through a
discovery of the weaknesses of death, chapter after chapter, and poem by poem.
The evils and the horrors of death are inscribed, as against the weapons which
contend and overthrow its debilitating effect in every domain, and in all
realms.
According to Notes on
the Loss of a Dear Friend, the poet explains that 'Life from this moment
[the moment of one's demise] onwards is
not life anymore; it is a strife against logic and reason’. Hence, in dealing
with death through logic and reasoning, we should learn to cope, we should
learn to forget, we should learn to pray as taught in the various verses. In Dirges
especially, a mournful but honest opera is opened to celebrate the intimacy and
excellence of some private relationships: of which a reader could relate to
several circumstances and personalities. To a great extent of relief, there is
an ample expression of affection and remorse which compel living-beings to
value the company, the warmth, the talent and the indispensable qualities of
life expressed in their neighbours.
Although he dwells on a deep sense of brotherhood and common kinship of the human race to empathize with departed bodies, the poet does not lose sight of the commonalty of mankind's fatal destiny. In the fashion of wise king Solomon, he acknowledges the appointed schedules of death. No negotiations whatsoever; death attends at an hour he finds suitable. That usurping authority has never been cherished by the poet. But quite grimly, though, he appreciates the mortal fate of man, gaping ever vulnerable to the inevitable decree. If the ruins of death couldn't be felt at any environmental setting, perhaps it could at least be understood at a burial site:
Although he dwells on a deep sense of brotherhood and common kinship of the human race to empathize with departed bodies, the poet does not lose sight of the commonalty of mankind's fatal destiny. In the fashion of wise king Solomon, he acknowledges the appointed schedules of death. No negotiations whatsoever; death attends at an hour he finds suitable. That usurping authority has never been cherished by the poet. But quite grimly, though, he appreciates the mortal fate of man, gaping ever vulnerable to the inevitable decree. If the ruins of death couldn't be felt at any environmental setting, perhaps it could at least be understood at a burial site:
As we stand here watching the earth
Cover the dead, we know within us
The same will be done us
When the time is right –
While reading the passionate personal outcries of the Landscape of Sentiments to the communal tributes of the Kommos, I could still think of a walk through a forest. Yet I was only taking an enthusiastic account of some vociferous ideas and feelings about what Mensah presents as a pandemic social phenomenal. Reading through the two sectional chapters after Laments, and towards the last poem of Threnodies, the forest-like image – owing to the details in the book – appears so strong.
Probing the forces of eternity and the dark agents of death, A Requiem for the World and Other Poems is universally drawn around the superiority of life. And just like the passage of life and death, the forest has complex organs. There are seasons: there are rays of light and shadows of darkness. There are varieties, growth and decay. There are symptoms of parasite and poachers. There are fallen trees, vacuum, snared rodents, and earth’s crust.
In the real world, war, sexuality and mortality are substances which affect reproduction, the growth and decline of population, as well as national psyche, social patterns and economic development. However, African verse of modern times seems not so interested in handling the complications and suspicion that usually arise out of their discourse. But among the few, Prince Kwasi Mensah has dared to canvass a natural routine that is as important as the air we breathe and civil rights we protect.
If you wonder why Mensah haven't ignored; but have instead done justice to this often mishandled theme of death in his poetry, read it from a statement I picked from an article he wrote for The Griot: 'It is our job as poets to see overlooked angle, which might not be popular, but essential to the conversation of life'
By the records of this book, it becomes definitive that Mensah has not just ventured, but true to his devotion, imaginative and intellectual prowess, the dead is honoured, and contempt is held against the deeds of death. By the records, myths too are shattered and memories are preserved. But for the limitations of man, the pages of the requiem meant for solidarity with the world, goes to a close by reserving some decorum for the mysteries of death. Indeed, Donald Rumsfeld said it right: 'There are known unknowns; there are things that we know we don't know'. In the world of this book therefore, those 'unknown things' are nothing but supernatural constitution, beyond common knowledge.
According to the wisdom of this title, I have learned that whether we ask in a sober moment or with heavy hearts, some questions might die with us unanswered or vaguely solved. Our curiosity may not find the most satisfactory of information, yet let us play the role of the child in Living Dogs and Dead Lions. Yet, let us hope that someday the advancement of science would go a long way to prolong life on earth. Let us live a lifestyle rewarding of longevity, yet let us not be riddled by the irrational executions of death. In our moments of misfortune or perplexity, let us submit in good faith, to the following texts, and similar principle:
Child, as long as earth lies beneath
While reading the passionate personal outcries of the Landscape of Sentiments to the communal tributes of the Kommos, I could still think of a walk through a forest. Yet I was only taking an enthusiastic account of some vociferous ideas and feelings about what Mensah presents as a pandemic social phenomenal. Reading through the two sectional chapters after Laments, and towards the last poem of Threnodies, the forest-like image – owing to the details in the book – appears so strong.
Probing the forces of eternity and the dark agents of death, A Requiem for the World and Other Poems is universally drawn around the superiority of life. And just like the passage of life and death, the forest has complex organs. There are seasons: there are rays of light and shadows of darkness. There are varieties, growth and decay. There are symptoms of parasite and poachers. There are fallen trees, vacuum, snared rodents, and earth’s crust.
In the real world, war, sexuality and mortality are substances which affect reproduction, the growth and decline of population, as well as national psyche, social patterns and economic development. However, African verse of modern times seems not so interested in handling the complications and suspicion that usually arise out of their discourse. But among the few, Prince Kwasi Mensah has dared to canvass a natural routine that is as important as the air we breathe and civil rights we protect.
If you wonder why Mensah haven't ignored; but have instead done justice to this often mishandled theme of death in his poetry, read it from a statement I picked from an article he wrote for The Griot: 'It is our job as poets to see overlooked angle, which might not be popular, but essential to the conversation of life'
By the records of this book, it becomes definitive that Mensah has not just ventured, but true to his devotion, imaginative and intellectual prowess, the dead is honoured, and contempt is held against the deeds of death. By the records, myths too are shattered and memories are preserved. But for the limitations of man, the pages of the requiem meant for solidarity with the world, goes to a close by reserving some decorum for the mysteries of death. Indeed, Donald Rumsfeld said it right: 'There are known unknowns; there are things that we know we don't know'. In the world of this book therefore, those 'unknown things' are nothing but supernatural constitution, beyond common knowledge.
According to the wisdom of this title, I have learned that whether we ask in a sober moment or with heavy hearts, some questions might die with us unanswered or vaguely solved. Our curiosity may not find the most satisfactory of information, yet let us play the role of the child in Living Dogs and Dead Lions. Yet, let us hope that someday the advancement of science would go a long way to prolong life on earth. Let us live a lifestyle rewarding of longevity, yet let us not be riddled by the irrational executions of death. In our moments of misfortune or perplexity, let us submit in good faith, to the following texts, and similar principle:
Child, as long as earth lies beneath
The
reign of the heavens,
Dogs
will live while lions die –
It
seems earth is a better place
When
there are more living dogs
And
more dead lions – [Page 86]
Our eyes are reddened in grief –
In time, we shall understand
Why the young die before
Their time, we shall understand
Why tomorrow is not guaranteed,
We shall understand why we walk towards
death the moment we are born
– [Page 107 -108]
In
2008, when Ayebia Clarke published Traces
of a Life by Abena P.A Busia, an associate professor of English, Rutgers
University, New Jersey, the collection was praised as ‘a departure from the
conventional form of written poetry, while incorporating aspects of orality in
written form’. With regards to the parallelism of Busia’s collection, it could
be confidently delivered that Prince Kwasi Mensah has added a unique voice to
the treasury of a distinguished genre.
