Kweku Ananse, O’ Ananse by Nana Arhin Tsiwah

(a plea to the god of wednesday songs)


it is not this disvirgined sea
that must suffer the ailments of huamnity
it is not the aching river
that must suffer the madness of mortals
it is the positioned rain
the awakening mournful clouds
it is the accursed sibling skies
that must appease the gods
on this afternoon of a betrothed Wednesday


kweku ananse o’ ananse
why do you not mourn on this god-stolen day
why do you beat the hides of the sky
making asaase yaa quiver in the tongue
yet you shed no tear for the disvirgined sea


the sun has gone down
on the kneels of our eyes
the river has lost her womb
to the reddish hairs of mortality
and Odomankoma is still locked in his room
as though he hears but still fears the pestle


o’ come down tearful rains
come down goddess intoned clouds
for this land of anansesem
has no more room
to wash the feet of our stolen gods


come down
. . clouds . .
come down
. . anansentonton. .
for our wednesday songs
have no herbs to cure the sick

Kweku Ananse, the wise spider, is reckoned as the king of African folktales.

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