They were a family sitting
And one of them was I,
I still can't forget what they were talking
And how the breeze passed by,

Then suddenly the gun sound cried
And everyone were separated
One of the mother left her child behind!
And runned for her life

The child was I..
I thank GOD i survived
I was hungry and naked
But only for some times!
At a Beatiful home am now located
And this is my life
I beleive i lost my home
Just to find my future
The future that has peace
Love
Kindness
And testimonies

Written by Anaclet the Poet Boy

She had a pyrrhic victory
Against the ******* masterminds
Who had her children’s lives by the tips of their fingers
And blew air of fear and dependency into their lungs.

A mother of many;
She has children of vast kinds
Segregated from all corners
By dissimilar cultures and tongues.

From the meat-loving Ovaherero in the center, northwest and east,
To the vaCaprivi, vaKavango and Ovambo in the north and northeast with their villas
To the Khoikhoi in the south with their unique communication,
She mothers them all with equal loving.            

She is beloved for her beautiful contrast;
Rivers, mountains, flat plains and savannahs
Not to overlook the merging of the desert and ocean.
She truly is wonderful, beautiful and compelling.

Her name is Namibia.

I miss the colors.

Purple, red and green

Everything you could dream of and more.

Back home they are all grey.

Grey, brown or black.

Gone is the wonder in this winter.

Ice and snow cover the ground yet it does little to amaze me.

I miss the burning sand beneath my feet, the dunes and the open ocean.