when the Kwabena Nketia twisted in proverbs
when the Seprewa strings plug to tune
when the Handel composed to interest

was it done for us?

when the Crosby played and sang
when the Amakye Dede planned to entertain
when the Vivaldi sat down to think

was it done on purpose?

when the Ludovico played to uplift the spirit
when the Fire side stories were told to be remembered
when the da Vinci painted to last

was it done for our generation?

yes , I believe so
may be the present generation are not informed
may be the present generation are not of interest

how can we forget our past
how can we forget our forefathers
how can we forget what we were born with

do we still have our cultural traits in mind
do we still have our cultural elements to be exhibited
do we still have something to be shown to the world

if not, let us go back to the old days

SANKOFA SANKOFA SANKOFA

WE ARE NEVER LATE ON DOING WHAT IS RIGHT

science is the study
that fragments nature and my mind.
it was the inevitable
parting of ways.
as my son chose me and lit the more
delicate traces
so I could trace back.
Sankofa.

it's theories must be
erased from my senses.
so intwined in my perspective.
my people carry me through the mess.
to the other side, where really
it all makes sense.
once, I questioned
everything.
all the holes science creates
by the hands of its very nature.

equations are written in our souls.
not the miracle revelations of
science.
but the simple observations of
time.
disconnected from our land
we too get broken down.

our nature is to build
create, create, create
once our nature is reaffirmed,
within,
we begin to recognize our creations.
realize our manifestations.
our power.
our God-like structure.
it's happening all over.
our intelligence as a species
is aligning with our wisdom.
the heart naturally awakens
along with inner vision
followed by revolution!
the origin, here, now.
not always black or white …
more like somewhere in between.

By: Cedric McClester

Sankofa, looking back
To go forward
The past is a fact
We can’t ignore it
Nine-Eleven happened
On somebody’s watch
Because the intelligence
Was ignored or botched

Like laundry
Dirt comes out
In the rinse
Through the quandary
We’ve been safe ever since
That doesn’t erase what happened
Apparently
Someone was napping

People hate it
When I name the names
They debate it
And play mental games
So I won’t pin the tail
On the donkey
Or mask it
By being too wonky

For the sake
Of my argument
If it takes
Me having to relent
By not pointing
An accusing finger
My avoiding
Will make the thought linger



Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015.  All rights reserved.

homecoming
time to go home.
the light beacons my way,
calls we to thee…
obstacles to clear,
health to restore
and share. forests to plant.
the path is lit.

home coming time,
explore and expand.
home sent me out,
absorb and extend.
question and learn,
open the heart.
align with the stars,
then come see us again.

Sankofa, indeed…
no where but home. she knows me.
when I laugh with her vibes,
she gets me. she loves me
I am of her.
beauty, so lucky to know her, my mother.
the lights are on, its getting dark,
time to return.

to my birthplace, my personal space
of the Earth. the home that
knows me.
my family is calling me.
calling me home…

this time I will see what I see,
I will spend the days with my feet
on the streets, searching for the hugs
that await me. LOVE the
vibe that birthed me… the relaxed
confident Californian … ME