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Aug 11
Hymns of narrow woods
Tongue of the old mother,
Asking if we remember her ways.

Whispers of Aspens in the winds
Sisters chanting their ancient praise,
Of the vast land in their grasp.

Forest groves around the rivers bend
Reveling in the life water gives,
So they might grow another day.

Into the Unknown,
Wild lands,
Where gods roam.

Mountain folks,
Grasslands where the buffalo roam,
Forest souls,
Jungle dwellers,
Those with salty seas in their bones,
And the desert nomads,
This beautiful place we call home,
Was never ours alone.

It was wild long before we knew,
It spoke to us and raised us to our height,
Until we forgot we were wild things too.

The mountains still speak in silence,
The forests remind us how to breathe,
The seas show us what we need,
And the storms remind us what is ahead.

Where the wild goes,
Our hearts beat and they were never alone.
Written by
Jena T  27/F
(27/F)   
78
     old poet MK, Ledge and Carlo C Gomez
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