Ancient Anthills
They ate the carcasses of worms, drunk the blood
Of ants, pests and rodents;
So did this people who dwelt in these anthills.
Till their ailing bodies wreaked, smothered with
Pain and unrest.
They crawled upon the ancient footpaths
That led them, deeper and much deeper
Into the densely and thickly thriving forests.
No sunshine would they behold for days
No cloudbursts could they hide their withering
Faces from, he says.
He says-
Well, the old man says- I started living here
Since distant ages ago
Ages long gone and hard to come by.
I stayed here, witnessed the moments
When famine walked majestically
Into the verandahs; It climbed unto the tops of
The thatched houses having done with several
Gallops and hops like the ill-timed movements
Of birds on the corridors.
Again,
Blurts this man who swallows dozens of health-
Sustaining, life-prolonging, divine herbal
Medicinal pills; He speaks in accents that would
Send
The most insensitive hearts present in the bodies
Of courageous men in this community throbbing,
With ticks of uncontrollably wild laughter:
A good gift should never spark a rift;
Of the bottles and kegs of oil
My forebears defended, kept and left behind
For me, of these long-but-not-forgotten places of green
Memories, may we ever scale past the huge mountains
Before us, and always feed on its balmy substance
Of wisdom.
Copyright © Ebenezer Baiden-Amissah | Year Posted 2009
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