Kris Atta Pappoe
Commuters Call - Poem by Kris Atta Pappoe
. COMMUTER’S CALL
I sat three days by the banks of life
And nobody ever came to tell me
Kutsiami had a vacation
And had gone to Dzelukope
To see his forgotten relatives,
Bored, I wandered back home
With my penny clutched in my hands.
One day, for sure, Kutsiami,
I shall return your penny
And you can ferry me across the placid river,
Perhaps by that time,
I shall have sung all these songs
And told the tales,
That thirst in my bosom.
Agoo! ! Agbonugla! Medo Agoo …………….!
I did not tell you of my sudden arrival,
Perhaps that is why nobody came to meet me.
On my way back, I saw many things,
But Dzorgbese Lisa warned me
To hold my peace.
He said, someday, sometime, my son
Your lips will burst,
And you will remember them all.
Agoo! Togbuiwo, Agoo Nami!
Agoo, Agbonugla medo Agoo!
I don’t have any guns to fire
I don’t have any knives to grind.
I am waiting for the Elders to come home.
I, cannot go to call them
For their meeting concerns
My unexpected return from the river.
Perhaps, the Old Lady was not at home
To be consulted about my matter.
But fact is,
I cannot go to call the Elders home.
This matter is hard.
In this life,
Understand it so...
You will be born in one place,
You may travel to some places,
Some places you may never go.
You cannot be the judge and the complainant.
It is like a tsetse-fly landing on your broom.
How do you kill it?
My brother, I am going to Nyidevu the Sage
Perhaps he can tell me
How to call the Elders back home
Agoo! Agoo! Medo Agoo!
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