The Drum

A poem

A rhythm so pure, natural Only a true tribesman knows of the spirit secrets of the drum chant Past generations and ancestors are called to dance as the drum sings

Culture knows no bounds As the drum pounds on the belly of the world

This rhythm of the soul Where spirits seek a neutral place The wisdom of the heartbeat is so evident to face

The manner of the symphony No secret to the man The drum, its secrets held Are so hard to understand

In rays of jubilation In shrouds of sadness In times of hope In my time Your time And the times of those to come

Will hear the everlasting wondrous drum And a body within comes alive and dances, dances, dances!

George Odarquaye Lamptey