Photo: Canva.com
Circles in the sand
Where do you come from, little one
from the soil that births stone and cement
endlessly perfect control
souls searching for meaning.
Where do you come from, little one
born from the soil a grain of rice, an industry
tired shadows and smog
searching for harmony between building and blossom.
Where do you come from, little one
drifting in yellow flowers
touching sun, colour, cloth, caste
a life of spirit and spice.
Where do you come from, little one
from the soil that gives birth to freedom, factory and fame
a vast landscape of trailers and opportunity
or from streams, forests and mountains
where feasts, fear and famine abound.
Where do you come from, little one
from the soil that gives birth to blood and rubble
a black veil concealing the endless wind-song and sand
a serving of flavours and courage.
Where are you, hunter people, cattle boys?
Where are you, brave strong-feathered people?
Where are you, smiling people from a distant island?
I long for your untamed stories.
And you, my hunter people, my cattle boys?
Where are your songs
your stories of the sable and the veldkos?
Lay down the blanket of diversity, the freedom of creativity
and face the winds of responsibility and opportunity
for I long to draw a circle of unity in the sand.