Lost Foot Prints


A warrior returns
Like a shameful dog I walk
Like a hungry angry weak lion I roar
Standing at the cross roads to home

Time have rubbed mud in the face of sun
So a true son blinded in exile suffers his way home
Am standing at the cross roads of home

A warrior returns home to drink from the breast of his mother’s calabash
The way home has chameleon(ed)
Its been long since I eat from the womb of my mother

The lost traveler is back
He forgot his flute
When one forgets the songs that walks him off the evil forest
The dwarfs dances to his silence for a stay

Akwantu mu nsɛm sɛm

Me kopɛ brebi a bɛ de…”
As the animal kingdom has no talebearer, the tales of hunting will forever praise the hunter


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