
In days of old
Ghana was rich in gold
So rich that she needed no gold to be sold
And stood in riches of timber, and untapped oil
In days of old
The body of Ghana knew no cold
Her people did her mould
Taking only what was needed and preserving the rest
But intruders walked in
Having stripped their own naked
They came with a peaceful hand
And hid the stealing manipulative one at their backs
A shake of the innocent
Landed into a trap of no return
Conquering the strong and selling beings
Eroding innocence and spoiling respect of kings
Until Ghana stood vulnerable
In front of visitors whose thoughts were not honourable
Looking on as her clothes were being torn apiece
Until her nakedness was nearly public
It dawned on one Nkrumah
Who joined a group to have their Ghana clothed
That the violent takes it by force
He took it in its sad form wanting to make it strong
Strength he had turned well
But greed for his throne turned his thoughts dictating
And so it was that all forgot
Of the woman who needed and still needs clothing
As they fought and are still fighting for her seeds
Ghana, Ghana
Beautiful woman Ghana
Beautiful tree of decency and boldness
You’ve had the patience so please wait awhile
Just as you were taken from strangers
One will come and clothe you well
Ignoring his own hunger and gain
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014
2 replies on “GHANA’S PLIGHT”
A message of hope, and it’s beautiful. One day a hero arrives.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Rob.
LikeLiked by 1 person