PACK UP OR PERISH

I hear the hushes of the bushes

And the marshes of the brushes

 

I hear the soreness of darkness

And fleeing plans of the fireflies

 

I hear the lifting mats of the bats

And weaving spectacles of some tentacles

 

Even the headless carries a headdress

A great storm is about to storm the land

 

Its mouth to come with openness and fierceness

None will be spared, I have been told

 

Why? The gatekeeper has failed to be a keeper

And has been bribed by the storm

 

Lord of the heaven, lord of the storm

Cries his banishment of the keeper

 

And has forsaken the eatables of the storm

For enticing the keeper with expensive possessions

 

Making him a coveter so much so he opened

Up to a bribe that’ll consume him, my dear, pack up or perish.

    Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014.