I had dreamed of gentle hills who cloaked themselves
in emerald green, swathed in capes of moss
and bejeweled by Time with tumbled stone.
Sitting in a high window looking east,
Over damascene forests crowding,
I saw the waves hurl themselves on rocky shores
where hopeful pilgrims and adventurers
once landed, timorous at first
their linear minds and loud weapons braced
for battle with those who watched
from under shade of guarded forest.
I knew their history now, how they grew bold
and mowed down the ancients, wrecking paradise
until, for a time, it resembled the land they'd fled.
Decades rolled past with the confidence of the victor,
his rewriting of progress and the careless tramping
of feet, horses and railroads over human souls.
At last, what was forged by the invaders
became brief peace and prosperity for a time,
but descended into dictators and their subjects,
and people were mesmerized by moving pictures,
their brains turned to porridge with radio waves.
lulled by sweet, starry-eyed promises from the rich.
The chance of revolution has weakened
to the point of desperation.
La resistance lies in shadow, like a lion crouching
waiting for people to awaken, for the **** that frees.

I scream so silently
That the voice is loud
Enough that others might hear,
In this state like a snake
My tongue is forked
So that when I speak
I am having multiple conversations
Slithering across many fields.
Like the ocean tortoise laying eggs
Ever near the shore,
My children join me in the waters
Only after they have fully formed.
You say,
Nature is yet cruel
And shall lay claim
To many of your young.
And yet,
Is it not nature who spawned them?

I am married to this earth,
this field, this silence,
even as the ocean offers itself.

I walk  it with my dog on his leash
pulling restlessly ahead,
biting at the frenzy scent trail
he knows exists in the air.

The woods beyond are gray.
So is the sky.  

I hear— the echo of
a  trickling brook.  
My dog, inhales—
the last traces of  
dying greens, the odors
of tantalizing blues yielding
to the coming season.

The horizon reels away
until my eyes can no longer
take it in and the sky matches
the coming night—
contains itself in the field,
in every thing.  

Drops of rain splash
and  fall off my nose
onto my tongue.
The taste is bittersweet.
The scent, silences  
my dog’s barking
with the promise of petrichor.

The hidden brook silently turning
breathes in the renourishment—
the earth, the field,
praise the distant blessing
of a dying Hurricane Debby
bequeathing its last bits
for this life.

In my *******,
I feel the grace
of an unseen promise.
In the walk back home,
I am aware that each
foot thud is full of mud—
the marriage of ocean and land.

Gorgeous Africa, my beautiful Queen
of a thousand unspoken dreams, whose essence
encapsulates the history and heartache of past struggles
—your tears of past, drown your face in drought,
mirroring the resilience and strength that lie
within your vast landscapes and diverse cultures.

Oh land, oh the lands of dusty colored grass,
presenting a canvas painted with stories as ancient
as time itself —the tale of you; a dossal woven with
the threads of triumphs and tribulations,
each chapter a testament to the enduring spirit
of a continent shaped by the ebb and flow of empires
rising and falling.

You, a child in my eyes, a precious gem awaiting
the embrace of nurturing hands and the light of
understanding —desperately needing to be cherished
and loved, your myriad voices and narratives
seeking to rise above the clamor of past
injustices and carved destinies.

Rise, my child, rise high and so mighty,
until your presence eclipses all doubts and shadows,
a beacon of hope and empowerment for all who call
your vast expanse home —lift her up, lift her up-
her people, a call to unity and support in the
collective journey towards a future shaped by
shared dreams and aspirations.

As she is mine, she is ours to cherish and protect,
a legacy that intertwines our fates and whispers of
a shared destiny waiting to be fulfilled
—lift her up, lift her up- her people, for in her
beauty and complexity, we find the reflection of
our shared humanity and interconnection.

Looking back at another year,
Being thankful for things far and near.
The horizon has never been this bright,
The sea of love brimming with glorious light.

Looking back at another year,
Grateful for things small and dear.
Possibilities like soft molding sand,
Hope of adventures crossing sea and land.

O’ country of my blood,
country of my ancestors
I long for you
Your luscious green landscapes
and your highest mountains
Your beautiful waterfalls
and your fountains
The sound of the neighborhood kids
laughing in the streets,
I long for you

A time where we ran outdoors so excited
we forgot to put our shoes on,
sitting on the front porch buying watermelon from the fruit-cart man,
then sharing it with our friends,
I long for you

Wherever I go I belong to you, one day shall my ashes be scattered and soil with you.