06/10/2021
WHEN I DIE
McNana Media
I never want to see my mother's morbid face
Or the sorrow through her eyes
For the wish of every mama is to see herself buried by the child.
I never want to hear the groanings of my father
Or his sighs for unfulfilled dreams he had for his son.
I never want to see the sleeplessness of my wife, the truth that her companion is gone forever.
For when i die
I will go home
And be buried in the land of my fathers.
Take me through a procession
And let the whole world hear of me
Don't sing dirges of my exploits
But sing of praises and celebration
So much so that even God would know I was loved.
Sing it to the birds.
Sing it to trees
And to all creatures who nestle in their foliage.
Sing it to the hills, the caves and the flowers growing beneath them.
Sing it to my townsfolk, drum it into their thick heads so when my children grow up they would still tell of me.
Make up songs of me, beautiful songs of how I lived and died.
Make up stories so strange yet so appetizing,
That it shall be locked in folklore and memory.
I want my story to be Achilles' heels,
the twelve labors of Hercules,
okomfo anokye and his golden stool,
the mythical Jason and the golden fleece
or the freedom fight of Nelson Mandela.
I will be a Legend
And I will go home
Across the mountains
When I die
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