No light, television,you said patience pays
One fat mattress, one huge alata blanket
One corner of same room,utensils parked in a basket
Another corner, three Ghana-must-go bags
Behind the door, a hill of dirty rags
Until you stayed with us in the rainy seasons
You wouldn't know their use and the reasons
If the rains came in the afternoon
When no one at home, our room,a lagoon
If a relative visits, Mum shared the bed
We slept bare floor with books to support our head
Mum,this is how far we have come
Can we applaud and chew gum
War befalls the one who doesn't wake up at six
Insults, anger, canes and on lucky days kicks
Unless Brother Mic, the pharmacist down the street
Confirms you are ill and needs more rest to treat
What didn't we sell?
Where didn't we vend, except hell
Early morning bankye ne abro moree (Cassava and corn dough)
In the afternoon, 'bans boflot' (doughnuts )
And the evening krazine (Kerosine)
Mum this is how we have come
Can we applaud and tell some
What tears didn't we cry
Which effort didn't we try
Any route we didn't ply?
Yet Christmas and Easter
were simply the only times
We ate jollof rice and chicken thighs
Those Sundays you sat on the last pew
In your heart were many but in hands few
Ready to run home without disturbance
At the mention of harvest or 'Kofi ne Ama'
The body was willing to serve but the pocket weak
Yet you never stayed home, worshiping every week
Those funny Sundays, you broke a note into many coins
Please this is for God not toffees, she would enjoin
This is how far we have come Mum
Can we applaud and dance
to the rhymes of the future.
By Kweku Atta Crayon........On Mother's Day.
