And
When the moon had woken up
From sleep
And sat beautifully in the clouds of the skies…
We walked
To the square of the village
To commune
With the sweet tales from the ancient story tellers
Then, the
Sweet tales of Okontopon Kwaku Ananse
Fled from tongues
To nourish the tympanics of our ears…
We
Chuckled, jeered and cheered
And sang songs
Brewed with his name and deeds…
We reasoned
And stared ourselves and our earth
In the mirrors
Of the tales told about him by the story tellers…
In his
Tales, we moulded our earth
And spoke
To our kings and kinsmen
Kwaku Ananse!
Thou metaphor of selfish mortal
With a wisdom
That climaxes in follies…
The
Sacrificed character of stupidity
That straightened
The goriness that seeks to engulf our shore
Yes, Ananse!
The king of our folklore that anchors
The muse
Of our tales best told…
He
Cinderella and her kin
From the
Snow land have come to strangle to death!
O’
Okotonpon Kwaku Ananse…
Where is he?
Where is he, the pride of the tale best ever told in our land?
A poem from a collection- PINPINAAA…& Other Poems
(c) 2014
Oswald George Okaitei