My Tragedy... Poem by Merlin Mwaura

My tragedy could be that no one sees,
that I have an ugly feeling with me,
that no one sees the beautiful things anymore.
Why should a tree stand,
forever till its demise...
on one place, one spot.
That the wind however his protest,
the tree stands where she stands.
We might seek science an' say she has roots,
but I shall ask why they all stand, like zombies in their shoes.
Does the earth breathe, speak in ways
that man cannot hear,
That man cannot see, the gestures rendered
by her, an all other trees.
Should nature hold any secrets,
so that man may be safe from himself,
that we may not be destructive?
Are we not doing otherwise.
Where are we hurrying, why are we hurrying
will we find earth gone tomorrow if we burn everything...
will we fly tomorrow if we buy everything...
Is there so much sorrow in silent things,
that we blunt it out with loud screams.
I came to a place unknown to me
an' I thought I must be lost
but was I really? I could see things
I've never seen, not even a dream
To me, I knew I was found, for....
this is where I needed to be.
By design of innate things
The world protests much like the wind,
shall I stand like the tree,
true to form an' to my being...
keep those secrets deep within
that man shall come to no doom
while I hold a lot of good.
Black stallion, a champion mount
rides through a foliage crowd,
the night is young an' morn' will come
A land awaits us, where kings we shall
our queens surround,
where the tragedy will seize
an' we shall begin to see
the beautiful things.