You must go
With these words of my heart
That\’ll break Gbewaa\’s heart
You must cross
The rivers of tears
You must swim through
The oceans of heartbreak
You must bear
The brunt of their brute
You must stand
The storm that\’ll elect to stop you
You must carry
The scary cries of orphans along
Take the arrows
Take the bullets
Take the spears
Bleed profusely
But don\’t die
Don\’t ever fall
Until you touch the soil of Pusiga
And kneel at the forecourt Of Naa Gbewaa\’s compound
While on your knees
You must not utter a word
Don\’t let the griots sing
It\’s not a matter of shindig
Let your tears talk
Let the blood stains wail
Let the cries of orphans narrate
Let the murdered souls speak
To the sacred grave of father of three
Tell him to tell Tohazie
That the wells of dignity
Have dried and are filled with rubble
That his great grandchildren
Have turned to monsters
That devour one another
That the trust which existed
Has been torn without mercy
That they trust others more
Than they\’ve ever trusted themselves
Tell him the skin bearers
Have turned to party card bearers
Tell him we can no longer
Handle our own disagreements
Tell him our music is good
Our culture is very rich
Our lands are vast and arable
And children are sharp and brainy
Yet we still are one of the poorest
Tell him our poverty isn\’t our concern
Tell him we kill for the old skins
Then carry each other to the stools
To find a cure for a malady we create
When you reach
The tomb of Naa Gbewaa
Tell him the lines that followed
Have sold out all of the lands
And now depend on crumbs
From they that build them an arena
To draw blood so we lose our strength
Tell him my head may be on a spike
For these words I\’ve sent to him
But I am not afraid to see
My neck and head apart
If that\’ll guarantee my heart reaches him
Alhassan Rabiu
