Shattered dreams become
glass shards beneath our bare feet
on roads we must walk.

I think it quite strange living here walled by this house
when I was wilder than now I lived in nature
stalking birds and pollen laden things
always my toes in sands or hot footed in summer.
I was in love with the sky, no matter the weather
in storms I hid beneath branching cedars
sleeping on mossy pillows, in the woods of my backyard.
I never gave much thought to houses then, I only went there
to sleep or eat and waited to leave again
waited for an inkling of sun to warm the cold grass
spent days climbing trees, red plums and cherries
I imagined that's how life would always be,
living outdoors under the sun or clouds
wet with rain, always picking flowers.

The shore of Africa is holier than the west
Woodlands of sands flush the fertile sea
Drawing tentacles of colonial thieves
Drawing barbaric notions for terrorism

A weather that flecks pigments of all kinds
Alluvial plains of roses rise above Nile
Ebony texture full with agility
The color black resides in God

Carol of birds chants in my traditional hut
As crystal star light the still night
Our heart is holier than Vatican plight
As god is indoctrinated in extra might

The shore of Arabian gulf
Wields dome of bead of poverty
As the world cry in false mercy
It is the water that drunk our leader's self

As they toil in pilgrimage of self deceit
Followers ignites self discredit
Ready to die and empty self into any pit
They are by products of their fossil wealth

Written by
Martin Ijir