The road prostitutes
Letting all vehicles through
Why doesn’t she have a voice?
Even in rain, you accommodate all
In heat, you are accommodative of all
No rest for you?
Like a helpless beauty, you lie
As your beautiful flower is being flawed
By layers and layers of ungrateful tires
The washing bays mess you up
As others litter your gutters
Gutters you inhale from all the time
The sellers sit at your edges
As hawkers make you their walking ground
Animal droppings decorate you
While blood sometimes garnish your dirt
Drivers curse into your eardrums
As some spit on your face
Do you curse your maker?
Don’t you feel even a little sad?
Am I the only one seeing your suffering?
Somehow it saddens me
How you are exactly like Africa
The beautiful Africa with known children
Like Ghana, Nigeria, Angola, Togo,
South Africa, and many good others
Whose heads are ridden through like
Vehicles ride through you
But you are eternally hopeless
I pray the spark of hope in Africa
Shines to light her being
Being like you is an endless suicide
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014