To the men who sowed me like a grain


my son,
‘Abanoma Abeiku’
as you read this letter
of an epistle to my family
let it reach ‘Ebusuapayin Anoma’
that my corpse wishes not his face
at my burial grounds

go let the birds eat
feed them with the corn
I kept in safe as a dowry
let the 5 doves
who perches on my hut
be fed with the grains
of my sweat

and to ‘Opanyin Agyabeng’
tell him not to weep
of his hypocrisy at my funeral
under my bed are hidden
golden treasures for my dear wife ‘Ama Benewa’
and tell my brother, ‘Antobam’
not to come near my sweat
for the gods desires not vengeance
but a wake to their evil

the sun has died
younger than she ought to
I pray you
my dear son

The Village Thinker © 2014


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