Song of My Homeland

Dancing on flowing hills of golden grass, as the warm East Winds blow, kneeling gently by a stream, where Crystal Waters flow, in a Land that is my home.

Birdsongs fills the open air, crickets chirp as night draws near, "Time to come home now my dears!", we hear our Mothers call, we feast by the fire, song of the Ancestors inspire, in a Land that is my home.

Small huts of straw and Earthen bricks, formed from the the terrain's clay, on animal skins, in soft hay beds, we whispered prayers, and laid our heads, until the break of day. Crowing Rooster sounds the alarm, we slowly awake, at the break of dawn, in a Land that is my home.

Father leaves to join the Men, to hunt and gather wood, as the sun-kissed sky provides them light, all seemed just as it should, then from a distance anomalous sounds, outsiders raided our lands, they torched our huts and murdered our Fathers, and bound our feet and hands. Our Mothers cried, our spirits died, in a land that is my home.

I hear the Ancestors call, as I fall, as I broke free to run, those flowing hills of golden grass, embrace me with freedoms song. I saw my body laying there, as a beautiful light surrounded me, eternally free, forever I'll be, in the land that is my home.