I Promise

I Promise

Though the fog be fresh
And the flame be dead
Even though blindness spreads
Its white lethal form
Even though what's left
Of the burning flames of transited patriots
Is soot and ashes
Even though the ubiquitous dusts of wickedness
Drape the soul of the city
Even though the fog conceals
The very outlines of evolved evils
Though the sun burnishes the porters' necks
In the yam market
Even though the full moon detracts not
Robbers from their den
And the very land oozes red
Like the pure essence of the male Isapa
Still I will not be bowed
Though those in the know say
It's hopeless and helpless
I shan't regret being of the land
This land cursed with blessings
Where all is gall-in-honey
And life is eaten like the Awusa nut.