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AFROSCOPE 


Y’AGYA AGYA YEN

Grandpa is dead
He slipped
He fell
He bumped his head
Inside he bled
But as grey turned red
Before any tears were shed
‘Twas his arm we focused on instead

How obvious it seems
Now that he’s gone
To have scanned his crown
And yet we mourn
He was tired
He slept
He slept for long
He never awakened
He left at dawn

I pray his pain was very brief
That the handshake with death
Brought him great relief
Even as we remain here
Saddled with grief
AFROSCOPE [Nana Isaac Akwasi Opoku]; 2025



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