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Apr 2020
The pigment of her people vary
But their root traced to same route.
Minerals in her; buried.
From her veins flow oil,
Her vegetation; thick and rich.

The western hurricane
blew across her field
Seeking to annihilate
Her precious produce
But firmly she stood,
Resisting any oppression.
The struggle was grave
But victory at last.

Her eyes drip with tears
For her people now live in despair.
Same sword that drove away the enemy
Is thrusted into the chest of a brother,
Unity has become a thing of the past.

Why can't our differences; buried
And the flag of oneness hoisted high again?

Β©binditim
Written by
Konam Binditim Samuel  23/M/Kintampo, Ghana
(23/M/Kintampo, Ghana)   
157
 
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