By: Saffiyah Joof, TAT Poetess
Sayaa, faa jakallo,
Kullu nafsin zai_katul_maut
There is nothing worthy of worship. But He,
Everything is hidden and revealed.
Shortsighted has taken some people. Take heed,
Tears drop on my pen, but the ink is sealed,
The supreme glory is to Allah.
The creator, the bestowed of all forms,
From the three days of the womb, He is done.
This a wake-up call for every government official,
To the young, a fruitful life to seed before down.
As the Quran indicates,
“O mankind, do your duty to your lord, and fear the coming of a day,
when no father can avail aught for his son, nor a son avail aught for his father,
verily the promise of Allah is true “.
Sadness breathing through my soul,
I could not hear, I was told,
Badara Joof has kickoff, his last standing pole.
Born in the era of the Gambia dream,
Who would have thought that he won’t serve up to finish?
Serve with the distinction of a lifetime stream,
Graduated with the standard of GCC, O level
A worker colleague, he attended Yundum college,
Priceless in his professional development,
A quality teacher of massive trace,
Bestowed with strength but immortal today,
Bestowed with energy but ceased away,
Knowledge shall be buried seven feet in the grave,
But who am I to question the maker,
The creator of all created us in pairs.
He knows what was in our hearts,
But created death as our passport on earth.
Sayaa, faa balafah waratah
Man lives his entire life for The Gambia
His last sermon was stated in the statehouse,
“We can only move as a country if we focus on the truth.”
Out of shock, choking, my speech hurts,
A cream of truth clouded our faces full of hopes,
Bit by bit, his tree was bending.
The branches have turned yellow,
But I begged for his children to water the remains of his grains
Because we don’t lose the roots of his traits.
He has taken a long day to gain,
Prideful of his motherland, my crush to date,
I pay my last respects to the deceased.
The love grew; our faces all appeared pale,
His records are different from our pages.
Sleep Badara Joof sleep,
Sleep to the even days of your grave,
As our country mourns the death of your soul,
Your generosity has reached to my toes,
My goal is to inform the storm of the thunder I chose.
A better space; you are a coach.
I will continue to remember the page of your age,
Just as if I see you give a speech on stage.
“ Fa Balafah Waratah”
#THE ALKAMBA TIMES