I come from cast-iron pots. I come from wooden mortars, pestles, stone and wooden grinders.
I am from thatch, stick/wood, mud brick, rammed earth, and stone houses.From Brown roofs, shinning aluminum door, and spicy west african finger licking. Running noses from spicy, delicious cuisine.
I am from inflorescence of cats tail, tall finger grass everywhere and red sand.
I am from Friday family prayer nights, music and dancing on Saturdays, and 6th of march independence celebrations. I'm from moms smoky wood fire smell all over the house cooking, and Dads fresh garden vegetables.
I'm from laughing out loud and seafood buffets, from stop and hurry up.
I am from Sunday church service.
From Grandma and Grandpa.
From jolof rice, banku, fufu and soup, and plantain
I am from divorce, pain, and hurt.
From laughter and sharing.
From the king of the krobo land.
I am ghana, gold coast, and hot sunshine that burns the country. I am generous, I am honest, I see the best in everyone. I am from love and heat. I never give up. I love hard, care hard and work even harder.
YOU ARE READING
Child of Africa
PoetryI know my cover is horrible sorry. This is a poem I found on google docs that I wrote wrote in 5th grade. It's barely edited
