A bright night, the pangs of loneliness nudged,
I sat in front of Yaya’s hut.
Amazed by the beauty of the significant old star
that twinkled like a firefly.
the trees sang with cold breath and
memories of Yaya long buried within me emerged victoriously.
Gathered round a glowing hearth in Yaya’s kitchen, we told tales of ages.
We’d wept in joy when Yaya had sung the lingling trinkling mingling Limaton*
like a palm bird.
We pleasured being birthed in the evening activities, like night owls.
Looking back at the star then, it smiled sadly
And disappeared hesitantly with the glaring lightning
and the roaring thunder.
Forgive me Yaya, I exclaimed
and the thunder, lightning, roared again
And plugged me to my roots.
Could this ancient star, be Yaya?
Nyuydini Lyne Wongebee
Limaton: female’s cultural dance
Read – After the Fall – A Poem by Elias Dodo, Nigeria
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