They will come and go
whose promises are weighed
measured and found wanting.
Victory fallen on the hands which went higher
from minds heavy which can’t be sustained.
Dark sky gave birth rejoicing
and victory song chanting
when the quest at last attained.
In joy their tooting horns wept
their vuvuzelas failed not to proclaim.
They flooded the streets in their numbers
in borrowed colours and flags
which on their neck and waist hanged
with dances which have lost its shame.
with dances which have lost its shame.
The march to the flagstaff house is on
some to fill their pockets full
others to hoot and at her loot
while I wonder if they will indeed serve
in a house divided,
stained with vindictive blood
echoing in the mind’s eye
all pointing at this same hand.
Ghana was in labour
her wedding cloth she now wears
marching along with her born child across the seas.
Let no hand remove her gown
her bright cloth taint
or her baby kill
till the end of time.
N.B
Down memory lane with election 2016.
N.B
Down memory lane with election 2016.
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