​SORROW OF THE LAND

Once upon a time

Our land was a loamy rhyme

Our airs sang for happy trees to chime

A bite was meant to tease tongues from lime

But all that, now, means no dime


II

When the cloth of colonialism

Met the scissors of independence

And freedom apparels were carefully tailored by hope

Little did we know greed will nurse itself in multiplications to feed

Leaving huge holes in our growing seeds

Holes in which many hovering pests shelter

To hunt the rest of our freedom juices

In a shadow slavery bid


III

How did general development melt into selfish aggrandizement?

How did sweat of paupers rain into barrels of the rich?

How did power fly from the masters to the servants?

How did truth metamorphose into lies

In a vice-versahood which gains applause on entertaining stages?

How did we get here?

We as children of embittered souls

Who fought their rage to get us a page!

How did we get here?


IV

How do we break this cycle 

Of the oracle of greed?

How do we cast out the possessions of corruption in ourselves?

How do we get back the sensitivity of hurt

To feel our punches on our own selves?

How do we?

How do we?


V

If only darkness will work with light on its ruling nights

If only responsibilities will whip consciences in all spheres

If only capable heads will work with their legs

To jump from indifferent fences

If only political promises will gain colour from their white elephantship

If only

If only you will see me as you

And I will see you as me

And we will see our land as our mother

If only

If only…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©August 23, 2017

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