Dirge for Our Birth by Kofi Anyidoho

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us not ignore the testimony

of our own misdeeds

and impair our reasoning with

a stupid reliance on prophecies

of these new Seers


In the early days of the craze

for negation of our Past

did we not buy a coffin and celebrate the burial

of a Brother who still walked

this Earth with us?


did we not burn his barn and allow a clown

to rape his wife

before our very eyes?

What fate befell the Child implanted in her womb?


Did we not refuse to attend the ceremony of his Birth?

And when he died so young of kwasbiorkor

how many wept for him?

Who can tell where they are today?

the old priestess


who read our future in a calabash

the unhappy poet

who composed a dirge for the ceremony of our Birth?

Did we not twist their jaws and drive them

beyond the boundaries of our dreams?

Now we ask our mothers to confirm

the things our grandmothers say.

We beg our children to tell us who we were.

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