Smoothens the children’s hands
Like the mudhouses and anthills
And the hearts of the ancestral soil.
Orange sun –
Reflected beams of hope
Flames of a thousand tongues
Blaze through the wings of time.
Of splendor and wealth
And mystic kings and thrones
Buried beneath this golden land.
Of swamps we bathe our feet in
And crickets singing by the fireside
Of the treasures of a kindred species
Whisperers of grandma’s tales
Of mice and men; of hope and truth
We know not from whence they come
Or whither they go.
Of generations past and present
Of songs unsung –
Violet petals, velvet jewels
We violate the ancient myth of doom
We violently wage a war on our woes
Fist in the air, Feet stomp, voices rise, We shout in rage!
“We are the colors of the rainbow. This is our sky. No shame within.”
By: Mehitabel tori Markwei
© PoeTori Inc., 2010