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Far off, in the eastern sky
there flies a ranging vulture;
as a shadow in the rising sun.

It is called across the desert
and its song is wind and woe.

As its somber feathers flutter
lifted on the lofty airs,
tortured currents sweep it higher,
bear it on its carrion's call.

In the east, the dying, calling,
sing the song of all the damned.
On the west the rain is falling,
falling for the words we lost.

The crows that caw after the dead
come flying home with sad, sad news.
One more tongue has stopped its wagging,
one more breath has lost its warmth.

Let the foreign maggots have their go
but save his bones for Ghanaland.
Here the sands shall be his pillow
and the rocks shall be his bed.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Last few words: 
This poem was written in memory of Prof. Kofi Awoonor, one of Ghana's foremost poets, who was killed in Kenya last weekend, a victim of the attack on the Westgate Mall.
Editing stage: 


My thoughts go out to those people that suffered for others whims, Women and children I hear them cry, and the men have to just look on.
The stories of the brave and those of the victims bring tears to my old eyes.
It is such a sad thing that the world has not changed much in my lifetime.
I was born during a war of greed and I suppose I shall leave this time, as another few women children and men die for no real reason.
A very good write William, my children say that there is another choir singing, as it wends its way to meet with the thought of their God..
Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

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