Agbekoya – Poetry

Here comes the morning sun,
Agbekoya on his way.
Accompanied by his friends,
Hoe, Cutlass, and shovel;
Strange songs of a war he heard.

The dagger pierced his heart,
The nomads spilled his blood.
Right on his lover, he fell;
Strangers took his soul away.

His daughters defiled,
His friends were helpless.
Cows valued than humans,
By the bloodthirsty strangers.

Sent to sing the sweet by and by,
With the heavenly host.
The field he toiled day and night,
Now toiled by strangers who swallowed him.
Never to be seen again,
His breath slowly left.

Bathed in a pool of blood,
The forest bird cries:
“Agbekoya will never hear me sing again.”
The caged bird says:
“Agbekoya will never greet me again.”

The wind cries:
“Agbekoya will never hear me whisper again.”
The river screams:
“Agbekoya will never receive my comfort again.”

The earth he came,
The earth he toiled,
The earth he returned.
He went so soon,
Sorrow is the arrow of the nomad.

*Written in honor of the farmers, who lost their lives to Herdsmen.