Echoes of earth
call out a name.
Tender palms and soles carry history.
Solid strolls on the terrain of their birth land.
.
The zero of numbers.
The circle of shapes.
The well of origin.
.
Incense of smoky gerbera fragrances.
Tribes of feminine sacredness.
Rituals performed for roots remembered.
Ceremonies symbolizing sacramental service.
.
Location of interest.
Land of the living.
I can hear laughter along the longitudinal plane.
My heart's compass points toward the latitude of longing.
Dividing the land in two
lies the equator of equanimity.
.
She is the queen of the motherland.
Her kisses corrects my past.
Her hugs heals my wounds.
Her smiles swallows my pride.
Outstretched hands welcomes me.
.
She is a friend to the forgotten.
A sister to the seeker.
A woman named Africa.
About the Creator
In The Blink of Her Eye
Time itself bent and morphed, allowing Shannon the precious seconds needed to see and adjust to the disaster unfolding in front of her. Each frame showed minute details she would have missed had the clock not slowed down until she heard every click of the hands as they swept toward the end of everything. If only she was being melodramatic...
By Lisa VanGalen3 days ago in Fiction
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