It seems I've lost the flute of love
Should I test the voice of my flute
To know the name it calls?
Should I blow your name Adika
To ear if love's heart remains?
Should I describe the modern Africa on your head?
Are those black lines above
Sustained from the wrath of our mother's charcoal?
They smile the smile of her skin
Ay! Tell Shakespeare's sonnet 151
That love is not too young
To know what conscience is in your eyes
Thou air, air my words to Lady Macbeth
It's not just the eye of a child that fears a painted devil
But also the eye of emotion that sees Adika
Let's leave other sacred parts wrapped
Until we're done with the transmission
©EKWUEME KC
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem