Hope Kale Ewusi
Ah! Mango season in my land;
Time of year ‘just can’t wait
To fondle ripe fruits with my big hands,
From branches dipping low with weight.
‘Was late rising up the other day;
Long night, a vigil I kept - you know:
Looked out my window about noon day-
What I saw, hit me like a mighty blow.
There was a man shaking my tree:
He wore a dark suit – his face pale.
Shaking my tree, like he owned the tree…
Gathering my fruits in a brimming pail.
I tried to scream, my voice choked;
Tried walking…. like a baby I stumbled.
My God! Let this be a sour joke.
Unbeknownst my troubles soon would double.
Surprise, surprise; a soldier stood in the yard…
One who proudly marched on national day.
My heart leaped. Behold a kindred face in my yard-
Brother- my brother; hoped he’d see things my way.
Alas the stranger kept shaking my tree….
His suit, of ashen hue - white was his face.
He shook the bloody tree, like he owned the tree-
Wasting precious fruits all over the place.
Exasperated, I groped for something-anything!
My faithful machete, embraced my clutch;
Man must protect his own – you know?
I charged the yard …heaving with rage…
Steps ahead… shots rang out – bang bang bang!
I lay in a rippling puddle-jerking, jerking-limp;
Shot by a face that looked like mine….
Plucked by a face that looked like mine.
Author: Hope Kale Ewusi©