Kenyan poet, Mshairi expresses her homesickness through a poem “Home (Again)” It is that time of the year for Africans in the Diaspora to begin to pine about warmer climates.
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Learn more about Lingua Translation »Kenyan poet, Mshairi expresses her homesickness through a poem “Home (Again)” It is that time of the year for Africans in the Diaspora to begin to pine about warmer climates.
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The Dignity of Vision
By Rev P E Adotey Addo
To Ghana our hearts and souls belong, our dreams of old and new.
Your sacred grounds receiving our libations as you did our mothers and fathers.
Hopes never faltering while heeding the wisdom of the ancients.
The sacred drums will beat as we feed from our mothers’ breasts
While our fathers nurture our visions old and new against all odds.
With perseverance, trust, honesty, keen foresight and compassion
We pledge our commitment to a prosperous and brighter future.
So watch over our tomorrows until you claim us back again
Lest we forget, lest we perish.
Dedicated to The Ghanaian Students @ Cornell University Ithaca New York.
On The 49th Independence Celebration of The Republic Of Ghana March 4th 2006. All Rights Reserved
THIS PLACE CALLED HOME …By P E Adotey Addo
Sometimes my memory corrodes my mind
But there are parts I know it cannot change.
Sometimes I may deny past the hour of dawn
And like a migrating beast, they fly away.
Why is it so difficult to forget?
Perhaps these are just partial images passing through.
Where I once lived, someone lives there now
But I have to be strong to fight these images
To keep fragments of my childhood place.
So soon so little will be left
And I shall be alone.
But shall I ever find myself alone
Wondering if it had ever been
This place, this life
The memory makes it difficult to forget.
But like a pail of salt water left in the sun
It evaporates and melts away
Only to leave a white powder
That tastes foul to the tongue.
This place, this life, Kukuhill
Rekindled Memories Of Home..ByRev P E Adotey Addo
Maybe it is about not wanting to let go.
These floods of memories
About places and times and such.
And without a delete bottom,
They are for ever being rekindled.
Perhaps these tortured memories are an assurance
Of those places and people and times and such
Had indeed existed and not misleading.
These rekindled memories.
But there is no comfort in them
Without the smiles that touch my soul
To welcome me home.