22-5-2026
Poem:
The Akwaya struck and left me sore,
Its burning pain cut to my core.
I slipped from Yat Yaa near the stream
While others laughed and mocked my scream
I climbed back down and hurried home
Bleeding, angry, left alone
How could Laker raise her hand
Against the laws of Gott Lotti land?
That night I missed the Wang Oo fire,
Too weak to join the village choir
I lay upon my Amokoding bed
While thoughts of Laker filled my head
The lyres and harps played from afar
Their rhythms rising like a star
Laker is dancing there tonight
I whispered softly in the night
My heart cried out with deep desire
Her beauty feeding hidden fire
Her voice drifted across the air
So sweet the ancestors could hear
The darkness grew, yet I could see
Her shining teeth still calling me
Like fireflies at Wang Ayii
Glowing through the night so free
Then suddenly a knock came near
A gentle voice fell on my ear
“I am Laker,” she said
You called for me from your bed
My heart stood still; I feared to move
Not knowing what my lips could prove
At last I rose and opened wide
Only the dog stood there outside
Its wagging tail increased my pain
Like heavy clouds that carry rain
The dog fled off into the night
And I remained without delight
Sir. Abunerry

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