This stool draws tears from my eyes.
This stool draws fears from my skies.
This stool straws cares that ache my heart.
It was this stool that took my Adaka!
Where is my Adaka? Where, I ask, is my Adaka?
Where has gone the spirit of an irreplaceable gem?
Why did it happen when I was in Acada?
Why did it happen when my success grew its first stem?
Why? Why Adaka when I am in Acada?
like someone who knew her time with the gods had come.
She ate her food, sat on the stool, saying:
“Chi m, please guide my properly breast-fed son.”
I desire to ask the gods what game they are playing,
‘cos I don’t believe my own Adaka is gone!
She was an epitome of ‘agility’ and ‘prowess.’
No surprise, those were what her name meant.
I called her my celestial goddess,
who lived her life like an angel the gods had sent.
She lived up to her name in a way so speckless.
Ask around, it was a testimony everywhere she went.
I am expected to be strong, and act no fool.
But how can? How can a frail heart be a tool-
of strength and agility when it hurts badly too.
Return my Adaka and I promise to return to cool.
They said she sat on the stool till daybreak-
A message for me to know she loved me unspeakably.
But she should have held on to the ‘deathbrake,’
‘cos I badly needed her presence desperately.
Now all my fears have achieved a jailbreak.
The night and the day at war irreconciliably.
You are dead my Adaka, but the stool is alive, and I don’t know what that means.
Listening gods, please send back my Adaka.