A Premier Son

Premier son, first to see the painful smile of the world

The child to taste the lips of hardship
You bear the mantle
Of paternity and maternity yonder
When Maami and Paapa are on hiatus
Premier son, tending to the young alike
Premier son, playing the role of senator
When melee reels its ugly face in the house
Tearing yourself apart, fighting in vain,
At last weary
You call the next door neighbor
To help calm chaos
Premier son, wallowing in misery and sacrifices
For brother and sister to taste fortune.
Of a single twist of fate
The belief that the creator
Will plough a way in the end.
Premier son, hawking breeds of produce
In the streets, in the nook, in the cranny
From morn to noon to dusk
Just to get a plate
For yourself and siblings
When the day goes to rest
Premier son, laying erect
On tattered threaded mat
You pat yourself and as if
Gleaning your labor the day
You deeply sigh as if to shove your worries
But in your pons, it is a mark
Of the stretched struggle tomorrow.
Copyright ©19

Author: Kwadwo Mintah-Nuamah

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