We struggle in this rounded shelter
With no thoughts of those we replaced
Angry ghosts still bloat the earth
Taking our space and breathing our air
For every one we push unfairly
Into the mouth of the glutton earth
There is the hurt that lives unnoticed
In our personal space and our personal time
A word which hurts
A breathless toast
Will rise to live
Until it is taken back
Let’s with one voice
Make it our one choice
To call their leader
And render our apologies
To send them sleeping in their right places.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014
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