A LOST DESTINY AND A FRACTURED HOPE
A young boy who finds himself in a scattered world,
Full of inconveniences; misunderstandings all overboard.
Right from the community to the church,?
Everything is blunt and disjointed.
He misses wise counsel from home,
He goes round the community for redress,
But finds a rotten phase more than his home.
He plods within the reach of his country for success.
He goes to meet men masking themselves with political apparels and dancing to political gimmicks.
They distort the country's values and uphold their party colours.
Sad but so it is.
He trots to the church for moral support,
Only for him to walk into the church and its cohorts.
A multitude in-fighting with no leader.
Two factions birthed from a rich home,
Battling for ceremonial seats at the expense of peace and unity.
Now the home is broken,
He refuses to heed advice.
He cannot say proverbs.
The community is shaking to hold the traditional seat.
Two other factions fighting to win power.
People who have been together for centuries and known peace,
Today, they are firing guns at each other and sabotaging the future.
The nation is no more in the name of rule of law.
It is at the helm of nation wreckers,
Lacing their boots for political banters and bracing themselves up for corruption titles.
For so many years, we have come this far
But we haven't gone far.
We choose to drop our guards and follow the hollow shadows,
What are we?
Rich people we were called, for our thirst for what is alien,
We are now minnows.
Sad but so it is.
The nation's eye is punctured,
The church is auctioned.
The sheep's skin has been thrown away,
Palanquins have capsized.
Who are we?
Only if indigenous only meant old,
Archeologists would cut their search.
We have weak minds.
We fall for gimmicks like dullards.
Somehow hate ourselves.
Sad but so it is.
People even think the scheme only began,
It was channeled through the pulpit.
From a very beautiful mountain,
We have fallen into an endless pit.
What's more dangerous? The next generation are walking in the pit with us.
Our destiny flashed,
Our hopes dashed.
My conscience, clean and firm.
Only if you were thinking like me,
You would accept who you are.
But your ears itch you and your tongue thirst for uncooked meat.
As if your eyes were watching right,
They are also watching the West.
As if they take you for human,
They clean your skin to find dirt.
Look at you, copying footprints like you don't have feet.
Duffers in a crafted net.
Wobbling like fingerlings in a pond.
Distasteful, but so it is.
Written by:
Edward Kwaku Otoo
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