I hear Afua say.

So, I do.

CLIMBING THE SKY

Like an invisible twine

the big sea wraps itself

around me

and pulls,

so I lift my shoulders

every muscle

in my arms and legs

ready to follow

ready to dance

in rhythm

to the way

of the water

ready to chase

my freedom

farther

than I have ever swum before

but just as I prepare

to dive down

and take off,

I hear,

louder than the wind

and the storming clouds

that slap the waves…

KOFI, HELP PLEASE!

KINDRED

There, a dozen strokes away

among the floating rubble

and drowning bodies

head barely above

restless water

grasping the red-and-blue flag

teeth as white as its stars

is my cousin.

A family tie is like the river,

I can hear Nana Mosi saying,

it can bend, but it cannot break.

Is this a dream?

I grab him, look into his eyes,

and see a helpless boy

scared like me,

maybe more.

You were here, down below, I say.

His nods are shivers.

Who else? Ebo?

Daabi.

I want to ask him

about Ama

and my family

but the storm is impatient

and the lightning shooting

through the sky

shoves all thoughts

but escape

from my mind.

WE MUST GO, I scream.

But they will kill us.

Look around, they are all gone now.

But we cannot.

KOKODURU! I scream. WE CAN!

But where?

There, I say, pointing in the direction I saw the bird climbing the sky.

How?

We will fly.

What do you mean, chale?

And it never felt so good

to hear my cousin call me that.

In the hull of ruin,

in the midst of death,

I almost smile.

Follow me, chale, I got you!

I say to him,

right before

I spread my wings

and soar

into the purpled

unknown.

So, he does,

paddling,

kicking,

mirroring

my every move.

And together, we fly.

Little, Brown Books for Young Readers began publishing books in 1926.

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