After knowing that Christ will be born
What are your preparations
You who have turned
And still see baby Jesus as your saviour?
Like the three Shepherds
Do you seek gifts
For the young chap
Or for your mere frame for fame
Or to impress mirrors of lustful eyes?
Even you have ample time of knowledge
Than those shepherds caught out of cottages
You knew of His conception
Long before old adages
From your savage sages
Those you always use the name of the would be baby
To arrest like robbers
To bind like aggressive mad men
To cast like cursed gold nuggets
Into seas of evilness
Now what goes into His baby shower?
Do you buy expensive pomades
Or expensive clothes?
Or expensive cradles?
Build expensive houses
Or expensive cars
For the baby to be
Who will pay our fees?
Isn’t it funny that stable born
Gets all the attention in name
While all gifts are made into selfish clothes
A touch of make-up
A smoothie pomade
The scent of heaven
A foreign fabric
And classy partners
To show to the baby in the manger of poverty
What about His birth
Makes him a party animal?
What about His life
Is worth the drunken stupor?
What about His gain
Makes us insane?
The seas will gobble many down their throats
The roads will chew many like ‘nkyewie’
Vehicles will grind many like pepper
Materialism will handcuff many like thieves
Jealousy will fry many like ‘kaklo’
Into prisons of shame to tame
To reflect and generate blame
But another year will be same
And all for the baby born and kept
In the bedroom of many a sheep
Naming ceremony turned party for death to hunt
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015
(‘Nkyewie’ is an Akan word for roasted maize, ‘kaklo’ is an Akan word for fried mashed ripe plantain. Photo Credit, google pics)