We can’t travel miles away,
Like from Buduburam to Accra cemetery;
At the entrance written; “we were once like you”,
When exiting you read; “you shall one day be like us”,
We do present gifts to the dead,
But we can’t continue mourning,
Mama and auntie,
And spend hard earned cash on the booze,
Just for some “zombies” to clean the grave,
Re-precipitate our tears,
For our beloved who have gone,
They say; “walkabout child can’t see their mom’s grave”,
But we say; ‘war-about grandmothers and moms,
Sons can’t see their graves’,
We need not a special day to remember long gone love ones,
For their pictures are stuck in our memory,
We see them every day,
We remember them for a life time,
We don’t have to travel around Liberia,
On the tenth of March,
What if we encounter the “ides of March”?
Just to worship the dead!