O Mother Nature,
We extol your name.
Us, “the earthborn”
Give you thanks and praise.
You have fed, healed and
Protected us (those who obey you)
From evil every day and all day.
You’re indeed the greatest O Mother!
Men have invented time for themselves.
Yet you do things in accordance
With your own seasons.
You send down rain and make the
Trees grow and bear fruits for
All living things to consume
(Even though they mistreat you)
You’re indeed the greatest.
Thank you Mother Nature.
Last night I dreamt about the sea.
Its waves so strong, it roared like a mob.
The sea overstepped its shores
And landed on a rocky Island.
I saw a lot of people including kids.
They were having fun in the water.
It looked like a vacation or something.
But some people also seemed like workers.
The water entered a glass building nearby
But nobody seemed alarmed, least of all me.
The strong waves was rather fun to watch.
I was fully dressed but when I looked down
I saw that my feet were buried in blue foamy water.
It felt very cold, then everything receded and
Lo, I’m awake.
The heart is an ocean
And we are all free divers.
Some plunge deeper.
Others go shallow.
She plunged deepest.
She knows him more than
He knows himself.
We want to go and
See what’s happening
In the underworld.
Perhaps the gods and
Ancestors know why.
We ran and ran and
When our feet refused to
Go, we saw that we were
Back in whitey’s chains –
In the oppressor’s talons.
Africa cries for a liberator.
How can her children go
Hungry when she has
Fertile land? How can she
Be poor when she has gold?
Nkrumah said revolutionary
Path will bring freedom but
Who will fight for us?
No one wanted to fight.
Whitey’s dollar is working.
Lumumba is gone.
Sankara is gone.
Madiba is gone.
Nyerere is gone.
Kenyatta is also gone.
And so is great Nkrumah.
Heroes die soon and
The clowns live long.
But Africa, my Africa is not
What is shown the world.
My Africa will rise…again.
You see that tree over there?
You see that kid playing?
You see the house over there?
Do you see the pot plant?
The tree – the child –
The house – the plant.
If you build houses
Go where there is homelessness.
If you are a healer
Go where there is illness.
If you can teach
Go where there is ignorance.
If you can preach
Go where there is immorality.
If you can lead
Go where there is indiscipline.
If you can sing
Go where there is despair.
If you are rich
Go where people are weak.
If you build bridges
Go where the rivers are.
If you write
Go where there is no truth.
(a repost from 2013)
I pray brethren.
Do not be conformed to this fallen world.
But be ye transformed by the renewal of your minds.
Wherefore many years ago there was a great spark.
Which brought forth life from the non-living.
This spark, the burning flame, we call life –
It belongs to an owner.
Tortoises and snails from stones, and serpents from reeds.
And from leaves, came flying creatures.
Unless one sees oneself as an integral part of the whole
One can never find meaning.
Despair in something is better than belief in nothing.
For with the former, there is always a destination and
Something from which the conscious self can seek repose.
Be ye, therefore, submissive brethren, to your inner selves –
To your owner – one who is and knows all but cannot be known.
What is in oneself, indeed, is greater than what is in this world.
(Originally written in 2014.)
The monster which one has fought
Is that which one will continue to fight –
If one remains true to oneself.
But you may run to sea if the monster appears again.
Run to sea – bury yourself in the sand –
The cold sand.
Let the brine sweep over you.
And inhale the sweet breeze.
After which you may go back home.
And I guarantee you will feel better.
A lone time spent at seaside is never wasted.
If I was a bird, I will
sing for those in despair.
I will fly high into the heavens and
send a petition to the gods.
Perhaps I will build my nest high
up in the midst of twigs and enjoy peace.
O, wind of the heavens,
redeem all venomous serpents
who dare the falcon’s flight.
And grant wings, I pray thee,
to those poor flightless rats
Who suffer the serpent’s wrath.
© 2014. Tawia Tsekumah.