Fresh Dawns

Dawn at the door

Let fresh come this dawn!
Let the proof of being breeze through
Us- to sooth us, us who
Lost in the last season;
Who, living yesterday, died
died like the evening sun.

Resurrect us, oh fertile soil
My mother's pot, my father's quiver,
The memory of freedom as I dreamt it!
Come morning and bathe me
Bring me back my country,
my youth unadulterated, unstolen, untouched-

Let fresh come this dawn!
Salve away the soreness in my feet,
the memory of political mileage
travelled in tiring circles.
Heal my heart of wounds
Of Love loved but lost.
Wash my mouth of bad taste,
Worded promise gone to waste.
See my head? I bring it clean-
A clean scalp for new plans to plant
Come fresh oh, dawn!

Sprinkle baby dew on the morning me
Surprise my dead heart with lively life
Make it be a cake this :
baked big with greatness,
Patterned with marks of many painful pasts,
Browned with unrushed experience
Then iced- with dashing daring dreams. . .
Let fresh come this dawn!


Let it swap a stolen dream
with something larger
Give me fire and give me water
Give me hope for a roof, only if
for the break-in thief
You'll serve me a matching anger!
For the cracked dust
You'll drizzle to sate the thirst-
Oh, come fresh this dawn!

For two nations: Kenya and me.

No comments:

Post a Comment