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