ROLLING COWRIE

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I am forgoten by my very own descent.
Claiming to be seeking something present.
I carried their lives like my own,
Now, in the background i am thrown.
Rolling from the birth of thier ancestors,
My journey has landed me in the land of visitors.
Furnishing their maidens with indescribable beauties
As they prepare to be swayed off by their dowries.
Powerful is he that tosses me on his sacred mat.
For I declare the destinies of the heart.
Those are the days I ruled kingdoms.

It is I who gathered dust on my journey;
Dust of true value, the worth of the country.
Why do you thirst for that not understandable?
Is it to seem presentable?
I ask thee this
Has they you emulate no respect for their past?
Then why let yours drown with his lust?
This is who you are and will be.
Sank)fa w) nkyir, but not what they deam.

The Haymaker © 2014

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Mchaymaker.com is the unique home of tales of African arts that seeks to expand the world’s view on it’s extraordinary nature.

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