Monday, 10 August 2015


My hand has
Shepherded the cutlass
To graze into the yawning noon
Behind me the liberated
Crops susurrate my praise. . .

My sweat begins to dry
My heart slows down its pace
My bones are sluggish to move
My blood flows like a sickly stream--
Abena Bamfo has not passed by

Abena Bamfo of whom
The rejoicing partridge sings--
Abena of whom
The lonely dove coo

My whole yearns for your presence
The land I have cleared
Yearns for your eyes--
the measurer of its beauty
Come and interpret to me
The dance of the crops

Always your whistling
Reaches my soul from faraway
Why the delay today?

Abena the aduhwam
On your skin sneaks to my heart
Before the noon bird sings

That your greetings travel through
My ears to rejuvenate my blood
Is the reason for my tears

Abena, come
For noon is darkening in my heart

©Sarpong Kumankoma
April 2015

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