Tuesday, 3 January 2012
The shadows of the year gone still linger
Pilfering hope from the hearts of the weak.
But we have already smelled the morning
And come to you with our Praise Offerings.
The drums You hear are of the expectant:
The praise and prayer of the faith-full.
We pour our laughter and dance out to You.
You who fetches water with a basket and yet
Never loses a drop. Friend above all friends,
Look! Our maidens wriggle their waists like tadpoles
To your praise. And our men stamp their mighty feet
Till the dusts rise in worship.
Like libation from the calabash of the thirsty;
Like song from the lips of one in labour;
We offer you the best of our flock and harvest
In hope of an even greater, more fruitful, new year.
Poem and photo © Nana Kofi Acquah
In another life, Alia should have been finishing Senior High or be in the university already but she’s not complaining. In fact, s...
Wow, it feels good to be back on here again. I have had severe withdrawal symptoms these past few weeks I’ve stayed away from this blo...
A couple of years ago, a European photographer friend of mine started a photo project called The Last Kings of Africa. He moved from co...