By Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.



Ghana,

it is for you

I weep,

it is for you

I weep these tears

of blood -

too many tales

told by haymakers

at the expense

of the screaming

hungry lot;

it was not

the Weaver-Bird

that choked

the branches

of the tree,

it was

the rascally

stone-throwers

who pretended

to be about

the sacred chore

of cleansing

the soiled

village square,

only to callously

light up

the shady buttress

of the mighty oak...

yes,

it was

the native migrant,

not the swallow-necked

stranger

from overseas,

that choked our tree

with wicked lies

of abuse

and misuse...

the sly settler

from Freetown

whose son unleashed

thunderbolts

upon our pates;

he would shortly

dine with death

at sunrise...

one does not

muddy the waters

for one's hosts

and not be drowned

by the rapids

of the flood -



10/4/13