STILL LIFE IN ACCRA

The day is dead
Whispering air blow against the head from dead ends
There, the wondering men of the night
Their mission; our plight;
We cannot tell
In the dark they come from,
Drawing closer at a fast pace are two bright eyes
Yellowish monstrous eyes
Making the heart take a leap as the curve approaches

At every meandering mile, there is a halt
The door slides open
Eyes wide open to gaze,
Then in jumps another face…

Tension rises,
Blood pressure shoots up
And our black faces suddenly go red
So red it flames when a face never shows up
This is a still night,
And caution must be taken
Ay! There he is, dressed in white
Neatly sewn with herms tightly fit

This is but a war
You see not your enemies
Yet they exist
Flanked and draped in cloths of the night
Their visit is always a surprise
Yet we always know they will come

Still life in Accra it is
Our employers know not rest till we arrive
They are the controllers of our dawn till sunrise

The peaceful silence of the night is so fearful
The whole world at this time is a dead room
Everyone unknowingly breathe as they are dead in their beds
Never three days, but some few hours;
Then their resurrection