If you need to know

Why my skin is coal

I’ll bless you now

With some knowledge bow


Mama cooked me in her special pot

With fire from the sun

And work from her womb

Turning me in and turning me out


Yes, mama cooked me in her special pot

I knew no cot

Under the motherly palm

Whose roots are pillars unbreakable


Nanny palm fronds lay to welcome me

As I roasted and roasted

In love so divine

To burn the gems of my delicate skin


I was covered in black which the bright sun fears;

The melanin that none understands

A conundrum it is

But mama cooked me in her pot

To protect me and give me options


I could be like you if I go by creams

But my mama cooked me in her special pot

A special pot made like a priceless zone

By God Almighty

And I’ll never trade that for anything

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

2 replies on “MAMA’S POT”

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