I call on Onyankopon Twereduampong
The craftsman with no challenger
One who seived darkness from light
And gave them realms to rule
One who moulded common clay like a masterpiece
And gave it thoughts of superiority
One who created a universe that even great minds can’t its steps of creation fathom
To come for his drink!
Maker of all the bluffing and meek!
Come for your drink
I next call on all figures known as passage ways to Twereduampong
From Kramo-Kandifo to Papa Yesu
Not forgetting the uncountable gods
Whether in famine or abundance
Those who have given such signs to many,
Taken much blood for their glory in quietude
Come, drink with Ghanaman!
Every hand which work the land
In positivity with visions
Visions of brighter tomorrow
Visions of happy faces taking batons of custodianship
Visions of flying flags for fierce forces
Visions of being the kowtowed and not the kowtowing
I serve your hard earned drinks in the calabashes from the belly of your land!
Here, come for them!
Now to all hawkers of dirty linens
Clothing the ‘adagya’ of mother Ghana
The ‘aban-nnye-abusua’ clan
Who set fires in the cushions of the nation
Generating smoke for neighbours
Calling flies from alien lands
Onto sores of their heritage
I say ayekoo!
Otwereduampong knows best his art
That is why history of birth can never be erased
Bleaching changes skin colour
But all good eyes see the freckles which mark the soul
I say continue burning yours and yours
Call for aid and flies on your sores
Know your consciences never die
And if ancestors watch our path
I pray for you to join their watch
Seeing your ills shaking our grounds
Seeing your holes breaking our defences
Seeing your fire-scars which easily sore
But for now,
No sage feeds only good children leaving the stubborn
Come for the drink fetched from drought!
Minds without hands
Who seek to kill the drivers of our land
And hop into their seats to negotiate dangerous curves
Flies hovering, always looking for sores to dig deep for fresh flesh
To lay bare our bones
Vampires of blood different from their lands
Vultures who stand on tall trees from deep forests
We are hospitable fellows
Fellows who give even to demons
Forget of the choking on drinks from the magnanimous
Forget of the pure hearts you wish murder upon
Forget of the ills we wish upon your breed
Forget of the traps we ask the gods to lay
We believe even the condemned must be fed on his journey
Boldly come for some drink from our crying pots
Now I call on all whose hands host powers
And have mouths close to the Creator of creators
To come for a convention of intervention!
Uproot all evil trees
Whose roots poison our lands to flourish!
Destroy all evil seeds who dream of comfortable soils to soil this land!
Continue to tend to our wounds
Placing hunters where horrid hunters hunt
In our beautiful sphere
And shoot into embarrassment
Spies throwing them into dens of their hungry dogs
Dogs cannibalistic and daring
To make scapegoats out of over ambitious trained eyes
Guide and guard to glide
Stepping into grass to find its ladder
Let us not have the fate of riding through Genesis to end in Revelations!
We read it all but hell must burn in the pages only
We are on harmful grounds
Clear the slippery mould and burn the fog
Opening eyes to see far
To plan ahead
The land needs the glowing peace in hardwork
To brighten the hunt for success
Heal our minds to clear our ‘pesemenkomenya’!
Take the cuffs of inferiority off our brains and free our bondage
We are your mortal livers
Posted in marked times
Hear us here and now
Into undecipherable glory
Listen to your fragile vessel
And hold hands to help build Ghana
Wie wie wie!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 3, 2016