Here, we cook goodness in wooden pots.

Here, we lay down in back aching laughter.

Here, our essence speaks – in spiritual tongues.

(Kubwa nguvu tumbo) –

Mighty Womb,

 

We dash toward whistling trains.

Thumping under me.

Listening to stillness,

exploring silent dances,

between each toe.

Here, the rivers know my name.

 

Burning off the feeble drums,

 

Awaken

I am whole

I am knowing

I am blissful

I am full

I am returning

I am spirit