In remembrance of those who died a year ago today.May their souls rest in peace.
Our hearts weep, our eyes are blood red from tears we cried for the fallen.
One last good bye, “damirifa due”.
We are sorry for your loss, for even Samson would not be able to wrestle you from the grips of death’s icy cold hands and Solomon with all his wisdom cannot come up with the right plans and strategy to rescue you from his wrath.
“Me k) aba” you said not knowing we were gazing at you for the last, for you would not return home to our akwaaba.
The elders say “Mek) p3 bi adi, 3ni asem n’nam”, indeed seeking to feed oneself and family is flaunt with problems.
For you sought to fend for yourself and the nation, but paid the ultimate price, Your life.
Now remembered and never to be forgotten. Stitched into our soul is your image, that we may never forget the dreams we shared like broken breads of communion we never ate. For our words were our bread eaten in secret by the rivers of memoris.
Mixed into our spirit is your passion, that we may never give up on our visions and aspirations.
Efo Courage Writes©2015
They come down like speeding race cars
Acceleration due to gravity drives their force
Striking us with such indignation till we are forced to take cover
Even covers must be chosen carefully
For their wrath is inclined to all, yes even edifices
The descendants of these assailants attack with ferocity and carry all in their path that have not proper grounding
It rains in Accra…
Formula 1 got no tags on them
Painfully they beat their victims
their onset is usually not foretold
They make meteorologists look foolish
Nadmo cannot curtail their descent
Humanitarian efforts are always late
True to form they rush down like locusts leaving nothing but destruction in their wake
A magnanimous conflagration
Oh! June 3rd
Who told you we were ill-prepared?
Who told you of the filth in our gutters?
Who told you to shroud urself in pitch darkness?
Who told you to dent our minds with painful memories?
Who informed you of our weak points? Who told u to strike us with all your might
You came and laid to ruins our investment
Made widows of our wives
Widowers of our husbands
You mercilessly converted merry giddy children into loathsome orphans
You swallowed many like the whale
But unlike Jonah u regurgitated corpses
After belching fire like a dragon
We mourned and wept bitter tears
We threw dirt on our heads for a hard blow you dealt us
It rains in Accra….
PS: To all the fallen and the families of the Fallen.
It’s been 9 months and the memories linger on.
After 9 months of pregnancy, mothers rejoice over their new borns.
The rains have started, shall we rejoice that plans to prevent recurrence would birth success?
Are we still dumping refuse into our gutters?
PSS: Lord pls no vex if we come to you with wails when it’s our own doing that has caused our suffering.
My two pesewas.
When the world got a taste of hell,
There seemed to be a never-ending knell.
Oh! What a dreary day it was
When Life and Death were at war
Hell happened when the shelter went up in flames
A place supposed to be refuge
Became a funeral cremation of pain
When the world got a taste of hell
Dark was the night that day,
how unassuming it was
And how great was the loss
It deceived with normal mire
but unleashed a terrible fire
It rained like God’s tears
Stirring up the people’s fears
Legs stopped for safety
And Cats and Dogs outside the rain
Hid from the cats and dogs that poured in the rain
The great explosion was the tolling bell
That signaled the very presence of hell
Angry flames broke out fast
Feeding on everything in its path
It broke the bond of two lovers,
Shattered the visions of dreamers
And took away the babies of a mother
Flames and waves fought
As the doomed sought
To beat nature and save their lives
Fire and Rain
Spark on Oil
A burnt station
Which had exploded the nation
Had left the alive, dead
And the dead, dead
There was no life in hell
There were no stars
There were no smiles
Just pain, screams and scars
Destroyed prized possessions
Lost loved persons
Buried potentials and identities
Had taught the nation a lesson
We won’t ever forget the day
When the world got the taste of hell
When the ringing bell became a tolling bell
And the flag flared in the air at half-mast
We would run to the place
Where the streets are made of gold
To the place where joy abounds
We would look to the place where there are no tears
And only Everlasting Light exists
We shall look to the place of true refuge
Where neither water nor fire can reach
By:© Selassie A. Amissah Mensah 2016
THE SAD MOMENT.
Thunders clapped and the clouds frowned
There they stood in the eyes of each
Other as they struggle both great and small.
Life then became unfair to them as
Vision and mission vanishing into thin air, and ambition being buried in the darkness of eternity.
Hopeless tears drops from innocent cheeks. Hearts turn soft and broken as eyes turn red.
“Mama, mama, Dada, dada M)wuoo, m)woo
Were the words I heard. Their cries tore
through the starless night sky.
Sadness beams on my face as I stood right in my own space to see who Win the death race.
A race with no beginning nor an ending yet people wanted to run faster than
Usain Bolt yet advanced not.
Men and women lost their beautiful souls and goals as if we were still in the Gold Coast where we lost our Gold
to the so called folks.
I felt the pain right through my vein as I was ashamed in disdain.
A question still
Stings my heart; have we grown any wiser?
When Maame Araba’s
house is still near a filling station awaiting to burn and make headlines in news whiles they belong to the so called big men who sit their big position.
God help us.