Growing up in the
White man’s grave,
Experiencing the days
Of infinite mental disquiet,
Glancing up at the
Towering walls of life,
And considering my
Unacceptable wretched
Condition is all I can remember,
For I rejected the feeling
Of rolling in my own cobweb,
Calling it merely a
Trick of my imagination,
Indeed, the child resembles
The father but belongs
To the mother’s clan,
And the waves and tides
Are nothing but noxious
Dynamic icing strength,
Ah! A mighty tree has falling,
Flinging down coil after
Coil with hasty energy,
Someone should please
Ask nature to make
Restitution for this damage
Done to my restless hope,
For the resplendent and
Bastardized peace in me
Has been torn into
Squalid tatters by howls
Of rage and shrieks of lament,
May be, nature can establish
My virginity in the blood-stained
Sheet on my wedding night,
Hmm, my queer life,
The white fowl spotted
By the roving evil hawk,
Indeed, the mangrove tree
Dwells in the Pra river,
But that does not make it a crocodile.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com