_(For Osagyefo Kwame Nkrumah)_
And he came
And the people’s voice he became
And on their lips remained his name
And stretched across the earth, his glory & fame
And so, they hated him
And they plotted against him
And they killed him
And they buried him
And then, in the minds & hearts of the people, tried to hang him
But when they buried him
He did not die;
He resurrected and germinated and blossomed and stretched across the sphere of the earth
And lived; and lives ever and ever and ever…
And now,
Those who once gathered in the cemetery
And sang and danced
That his end had come are up & still wondering why he didn’t die;
Why he never dies…
And, in the midst
Of their thousand yells & million tears
He still lives even in death
And has a backyard of bundled laughters to spare…
And he came
And the people’s voice he became
And on their lips remained his name
And stretched across the earth, his glory & fame
And so, they plotted against him
And they killed him
And they buried him
And thought they had killed him
But when they buried him
He did not die;
He resurrected and germinated and blossomed
And now he lives forever…
—in our minds
—in our hearts
—in our souls…
Yes! He is Nkrumah;
Born once, killed many times
Died once, buried thrice
And yet ever living—
He NEVER dies.
Oswald Okaitei (c)
(First written in 2020 & revised in 2021)
