I was born in the Voice of poetry
I Was Born in the Voice of Poetry
by Obed Yadzo
I was born in the voice of poetry—
a rhythm deep as mother’s prayer,
a whisper carved from Ghana’s dust,
Volta's breath, Ghana's flare.
My cradle was a stanza’s edge,
my poem, a line set free to unlock the prison gate
Ink was milk; the page, my kin—
from the start, I learned to see.
I learned from him, my mentors voice , and he that was in me
I have the story—not just mine,
but of those whose names were never heard,
the market women, the silent sons,
the dreamers drowned in empty words.
I was born , trained, and now bold to fight
I suffrage not in silence,
but in verse that holds their cries,
for I have walked where shadows bloom,
and dared to lift the skies.
My future roars today because my past echoes in me, reminding me of the ages that I cannot really tell
The struggle of the men is mine—
the weight of hope, the push, the grind.
Their calloused hands, their sleepless nights,
are lines I etch between each rhyme.
This is Obed—scribe of soul,
storykeeper, truth untold.
I don’t just write—I bear, I build,
a world reborn through words bold.
So let the world stand still and hear—
not noise, but grace, not pain, but light.
For I was born in the voice of poetry,
and through its fire, I write.
Don't rush to race 'him'
Cos he has come not to reign
Grandma, 🥰 🥰 🥰. Obed Yadzo remembers that once the sun rises, there's hope for a change.
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