There is no ingenious cultural counting
That Sikaman will undertake
Without your number up the charts
Your beautiful fugus on your lovely leather foot-wears
Your beautiful skins worn on your humble floors
Speaking of bravery unseen to all eyes in meet
Your fierce and baffling tongues
Which leave foreigners in lost realms
Oh your many perfect crafts; from baskets to amulets
You sure are unique
II
Only few dots disconnected your perfection
Dots which have now been pieced on strings of peace
And I hope they’d stay that way
III
Oh there is no beauty in a royalty sitting in innocent blood
There is no prestige in climbing royal ladders through many corpses
There is no love in a blood painting on huge stages
The world watches, wanting to see the stamp of aggression
But shock them
IV
Shock them
By smoking the pipe of peace
Holding hands in a barn of protection
Shock them
By singing songs of togetherness
Even through the obvious separations
Shock them
By laughing at your readings and learning from your hurtings
V
Slaps destroy maps for our journey into development
Sticks burn wicks of respect in our needed aspects
Guns break barns of our beautiful histories without needed mysteries
Fires burn our wires of cognition in following eyes
Ropes murder our sanity in the land of our consciences
So let’s do away with those
Replacing them with the tool of dialogues
And the sword of pens
VI
You are so capable of keeping your dirty linens in locked washrooms
Unknown by outsiders
You are so capable
Of raising your youth with worthy examples
And reaping their awesomeness
Let Dagbon dress in peace and dignity
Love and harmony
As the fugus fly floweringly amidst your beautiful many dances
Long live Dagbon!
Long live their peace!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 19, 2019
Mum Cee 