They sit like wrinkled elders
Staring into their coffins
Mouths whose hands steer shout
“Sagnerigu! Dungu! Kpalsi!”

A look at their bodies
And hearts feel their failing heartbeats
Bodies need to beware
Lest their bones cut for revenge
For their peeled skins
On their tired chairs
Show their shy nakedness
But backs care not
Why will buttocks?

They grow shorter
When they are filled
Like midgets who can’t carry their loads
Their cries moan of their tired selves
Calling for death
Calling for scrap dealers to have their meats
Mostly exhalling poisonous fumes
Calling for its botherers’ lungs

If only Tamale beings will hear
And grant them freedom
To exit this world
I’m sure minds will be spared
Of their sympathy
And they will have their peaceful sleep
In foreverness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


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