Who are we Ghanaians?

Who are we?

Who are we? you ask.

We are one of the many people of Africa,

Our blackness is like charcoal, yet not quite,

Depicting the depth and richness of our character,

For we are also as brown as the sand on which we walk.

And from these two elements we claim part kinship.

We have been burnt in the fires of this world for the food of other people,

We have shed skin as ash,

Many of us have died in being thus

And many more, though lesser now, continue to do so.

We are trampled upon at every turn,

We are the necessity that is unwanted,

Yet we are found everywhere and in every home.

Scarred by the footsteps of the world,

We have developed backs as tough as the tortoise's.

And though it makes us slow in our walk through this life,

We are steady and unperturbed.

Our resilience is like the cockroach,

We are damaged and broken and left for dead,

Yet every day, we rise from the ashes,

Of our past and sufferings,

We rise to take the reins of the sunrise,

Upon the tips of the mighty mountains,

And steer the day to our desire.

We rise to scream out our name again to the universe,

And listen to it echo, on a thousand hills,

in far off places.

Striking fear into the heart of our enemies.

You ask who we are;

We are the people of this country.

The home of the proud,

Ghana.

For God. For Country. For Us.