WHERE SHED BLOOD WEEPS

There are walls around a nation
A nation fought for with priceless blood
A nation whose beauty, like mud fish in muddy water,
Hides in walls too high in ugliness
Walls of corruption
Walls of deception
Walls of greed
Walls of power-drunkenness
Walls of ridiculous stunts
Walls of begging
Walls of tribalism
Walls of labeling
Culminating in walls of poverty pictures
Plastered from social media to foreign watch boxes
Yet many live in eyeless villages
With no ears
Not that they care
Living peacefully in walls of ignorance
Through a greater wall of illiteracy
Their pair of glasses too busy in high class comfortable cinemas

II
It is funny how birds cry for this nation
It is funny how the sky frowns through the sun
In the mirror of their eyes
It is funny how hills and rivers wait patiently for a climb
To show them the passions their sweats have bought
It is even funnier how the fields grow
Under the matchetes of hands uncountable
Few flowers weep for their land
While the weeds murder ones with loud cries
Four annual steps
Mostly turning into eight in laying more bricks on
Has been a painful fate
Who will break his feet by breaking these walls?
Who will break her fake nails
In breaking these walls?
I fear for the curses of tears from ghosts with closed eyes
Ghosts who lost their souls in the nation’s purchase
Time travels
And so does this nation
My nation
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 21, 2016