(In honour of our fallen Tiger Eye journalist Ahmed)
You there wake the one napping there
Let him wake the one snoring there
So we can stand here and wailingly shout
Don’t ask what about
Haven’t you heard about the loss of a touch in this muddy sea we live?
We are shouting to the blood of ancestors who Bosiakoed themselves
Hoping we’d live better
We are going to wail to the restless spirits who hover in regrets
To hold safe our freedom of expression
Taking wicked bigots to the firing squad
Sanctifying mental warlords loving stupendously
Their reigns of power
And chasing voices of liberation into barns of fear
Locking them with huge padlocks of greed
We can’t be saddled with pox of poverty
And worry about our mouth pieces being infected with intimidatory dumbness
We can’t be scratching dwiibadwiibaa of corruption
Only for our eyes of hope to be removed
With knives of threats
We need the fleshless bones that fear no fall
To stand up to the conscienceless heads that fear dirt loss
We need the weeds out in order to tend to the needed plants!
We need the filthy rivers redirected
So we can clear our only sea hosting and feeding us into generations
They can start with slaps of self awareness!
Then punches of mental fixation!
Then kicks to free the numbed pain veins
Which make it impossible for the their rotten teeth to feel the hurts they inflict on their own selves
If nothing works, they should seize their breaths in ancestral prisons
To clear our paths into tarred roads
To aid our growth
How can we be stumps forever
When rains of blessings fall from our sky in their seasons
Into our blessed loamy soils
Feeding our blessed roots?
What will be in our keep vault
When our drinking tanks have been replaced with baskets
Hidden in our many pored earth?
So help call them to come
So we start the wailing
To draw our ancestors’ attention
To the imminent death of our little freedom
To avoid a future of mourning our only torch
Which leads in our days turned nights
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 17, 2019