POEM: BUTTER IN BATA
For several seasons, moons and nights,
The High Priest reminded the people:
Cast your bread upon the waters
For so shall it be returned unto you.
So have many days and nights passed
Even though no one ever again asked
When the ship of clay would come
To fetch the bread that have been cast
Upon the tidal waves of the deep blue sea
Oh YES! Our eyes longed to see it!
One, two, three
We moved in batches
Guided by the Black Stars
That brightened our path at pitch dark nights
One , two, three
A step at a time
Two steps at a time
A three for a leap!
Slowly , surely we set our sail
To reach the land of BATA
Sandwiched between and beyond the deep blue sea
Where stories of victims, victors and villains
Are written on the emeralds of history
And told from the heart of Lions.
Through faith we persevered
In search of the fate that awaits us in BATA
And soon pulled up
In a land made of clay, hay and ways of the tides
In search of our Bread
Which we had cast Upon the waters.
Oh what fate brought us of our faith
Our bread in BATA
Had been battered beyond belief
Handed to us with butter
Mixed on sands that drew tears from our eyes in the pelting Sun.
The High Priest will speak again
Yes he has spoken again
Your Bread with butter without BATA:
'Till come when it shall come
For such is the fate of those who muster their faith and
Let be, what will be , to be!
(C) Copyright, Selorm Kofi Dake.
kofidake@gmail.com.
10th February 2015.
