[Intro]
Soft aunts’ whispers in the quiet dawn, a shadowed room holds her name.
The kettle sighs on the stove, and I call out just to remember again.
[Verse 1]
Grandmother, your hands braided wisdom, weathered maps of all our days.
Tsito bells in the distance ring, a steady hymn that never fades away.
Maa Sarpongma, your laughter braided through the village lanes,
Carved our names in the earth with gentle proverbs that still remain.
[Chorus]
I hold your memory like a lamp in rain, keeping hearts from turning cold.
Through tear-washed rooms and borderless skies, your stories softly unfold.
In every plate of fufu, every song we name your own,
The family circle closes yet stays whole, forever sewn.
[Verse 2]
We walk the herb-scented path you walked, a trail of quiet, sacred grace,
Tsito drums tapping twilight, guiding us through this sorrowed space.
Maa Sarpongma, your voice—a compass when the night is long,
Saying we are never truly lost, for love will lead us home.
[Chorus]
I hold your memory like a lamp in rain, keeping hearts from turning cold.
Through tear-washed rooms and borderless skies, your stories softly unfold.
In every plate of fufu, every song we name your own,
The family circle closes yet stays whole, forever sewn.
[Bridge]
If peace could be a shawl, I’d wrap it round the elders’ shoulders,
Whispering thanks to the earth and seas, to ancestors older.
But grief is patient, love is louder, and we endure together,
In the quiet hours, we hear your voice, guiding us forever.
[Chorus]
I hold your memory like a lamp in rain, keeping hearts from turning cold.
Through tear-washed rooms and borderless skies, your stories softly unfold.
In every plate of fufu, every song we name your own,
The family circle closes yet stays whole, forever sewn.
[Outro]
So rest, dear grandmother, in the gentlest light we keep for you—
In Tsito’s distant bells, in Maa Sarpongma’s lullabies that soothe.
We carry you in our breath, in the bonds that time can’t break,
Until we meet again where memories cradle us and break our wake.
