I am yet to come terms with the calamity
Why the old fisher lost his life appealing
the return of his wife slyly snatched by a Chief
Claiming neglect of the stunning beauty.
This fisher had his modest farm and family
Our respect for his kindness and meekness,
his smiles glowed even under darkest clouds.
But his spouse was stolen and the theft celebrated
With lavish feasting, dances and drumming here
While the loser remained quiet in his stead and bed
Hanging his faith and dream with his fish and the sea.
We shall have all the days to cheat, run and play
Even when hearts are stolen and and put on royal tray
The larcener’s huge leg on the weak as he bays the moon.
But where does the birds and butterfles go when it rains?