THE DEPORTEE

I am sailing away,

Set on an open coursefor my land,

The land I scornfully abandoned,

For want of comforts in life,

Yet now the sea mocks me,

For like bees in their hive,

We do cluster the vessels body over,

With sickness sadness and sorrow,

Reflected on our rejected ebony faces,

And what lay in store from nature,

Cannot be ours to tell.

Poor me, I am a deportee, A returnee, An evacuee, an Expellee

Like nomads seeking green pastures,

We thronged their boisterous cities and towns,

For what we thought our land denied us,

Yet our land denied us not of freedom,

Rejected as we are this day,

We seek our land for comfort,

Poor me ……. I am a deportee, A returnee, An evacuee and expellee

The table fan much air did not provide,

But our land provides this trip at least

Our land provides her love

Our land our sick mother

We need not reject

Poor me,

I am a deportee, A returnee, An evacuee and expellee

Back in her bosom at last

Am I feel refreshed by her loving warmth,

Hence shall I never contend

That grass is green at their feet

For my land lies bequeathed with treasure

Which my sweat alone can unearth

Then shall I proudly say

That grass is greener at my feet

Then shall I seize to be

I am a deportee, A returnee, An evacuee and expellee

Tema habor, Ghana 1984