New self-order by Dennis Okyere Brako
I’m circled
and choking on every side
By the
crashing burden of sorrows tide
My agony in
the garden of Gethsemane
Equal the
doom of so many
Determined
I’ll rise and put on my gloves
Protect the
geese and the golden eggs
Every side
I’ll fight for personal peace
And water
the withered ambition’s tree
I’ll spring,
like rebirth of the phoenix bird
From the friction
shall be polished the brightest gem
On the anvil
shall be born the finest edge
A new self-order shall emerge
