We cry for water in the belly of our river
We cry for food in the middle of our successful farms
We cry for air under the whistling trees
We cry for peace in the midst of our many soldiers
Why is that?
Those holding the ropes of our world are slacking
Causing us to drown in the water that must satisfy our thirst
Those overseeing our sunshine and rain have taken over our farms of plenty with their words
Those blowing the air have instructed it to hover and not serve
While our soldiers sleep in our circle hoping to be protected
Why won’t we suffer?
I guess we must drink the food
Eat the river
Smoke the air
Turn the soldiers into cutlasses to weed our farms
In order to maintain our sanity.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014.
Mum Cee 