Floating on the pool of tears
I journeyed my cause to the land of the voltarians
Where a son of a creative mind was taken captive
Into the land of silent majority
His mission soul was devoured by the pellets of the rebel barrel
In the hands of the nefarious insurgents of Alshabab
Indeed the paws of death clamped him down
The ideal son of the imaginative mother
His motionless body was swaddled in linen
Our hearts missed a beat upon hearing your sudden transition
Are we somniloquying?
Or seeing a mystical trance with our eyes widely opened
Oh! Our son has been sent by the ancient terror of unknown origin
In the diaspora you walked over waters of grief to our boneless fathers
You saw the nakedness of death
You wrestled hard to escape its horrific clenched fist
Yet it spilled its destructive icy spell on you
It stole you away from our slippery hands
Forcing you to join the train to Zion unwillingly
REST! Son of the soil
REST! Commander of the pen
I hum your restless soul with poetic threnody and drums
In your memory I rediscovered your impacts
On global minds
Mourning your soul with heavy hearts
Weeping bitterly over your departure
We are still fighting our conscious to believe your death
Safe journey professor Kofi Awoonor to ‘Odumankoma’s’ abode
Due! Due! Due!
Baba na wu! Baba na wu! Baba na wu!
May your soul find a place in the heart of father Abraham
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