(Written after the death of the late President, John Evans Atta Mills)
WHY does death come like a thief in the night?
Why do the best ones die first?
A mighty oak has fallen,
Chopped down by the hands of death.
The Asumdwehene* has gone to the ancestors.
The gentle man with comforting words,
Welcomed around the world but at home “Huuum”!
Even the Good book says “a Prophet is not honoured in his own town.
He has shaken the dust of this town off his feet without defeat.
Why did we have to wait until death put his icy hands on him,
Before giving citations and heaping praises on him.
His heart can no longer burst with joy and pride,
Mother Earth has claimed her son,
Mother Earth has taken him away.
Only God knows why.
Asumdwehene look down with kindness upon us from the heavens,
Your mark has been made.
Your stamp embossed in the books of time,
Never to be erased
Your name will be forevermore on the lips of the people,
Long after the ballot boxes have been emptied and packed away.
Our King of Peace has gone to his ancestors.
But his name will live on!
Why? Why? Why?
(*Asumdwehene - King of Peace)
(C) Mariska Taylor-Darko