To Nkrumah - Prince Mensah

Kwame, you taught us well
That our hearts must swell
With pride over our skin,
Our color, our kin.

Kwame, you wanted us as one
But winds fought your plan,
Winds of yesterday that cease not
To assail today's effort.

Kwame, son of the Sabbath,
Your wisdom is bath
In which we soothe harrowing pain,
Inflicted on us by world in disdain.

Kwame, your words gave courage
To the timid, to engage
In dialogues with blind ignorance,
With strength and endurance.

Kwame, we cannot easily forget,
Lest we will regret,
The power you ignited in black man
That he too is Man.

Nkrumah, we celebrate you in song and poesy,
In action, drama and policy.

You are king uncrowned, black Julius Caesar,
Betrayed on Ides of March by razor
Sharp doubt in your great dreams.
Our unity now screams
In songs of chaos, Cold War blues.

To this world, our concerns are refuse
But we shall continue to state our worth,
Relentless to our very death
That being black is to be great:
Such truth cannot be in debate.

Your words shine like golden bracelets
On Africans in torn blankets.

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