Sahel, Sahel Poem by Shirani Rajapakse

The men ride through the night. Their horses
gallop to time on the sands as they
move through the dust rising, rising like a cloud.
And as they move they sing.
Sahel, Sahel.

The wind moves the clouds across the skies blue,
deep blue. Morning breaks, the sun
peeps out. Where are the clouds going? The trees
want to know as they look up
and whisper to one another.
Sahel, Sahel.

She walks to the well, far away, balancing a pot
on her head, graceful, tired, hopeful.
She hums a tune of her ancestors as she walks
and her feet keeping time
with every step.
Sahel, Sahel.

The cattle graze in the blazing sun. All as one
they chew on the grass so meager,
so rough, so harsh. They swish their tails
to a beat.
Sahel, Sahel.

Inside a small hut a child waits the dawn
of a better day. So gaunt and weak, no food
has she seen for days. She recalls
the songs she sang with her
friends and hums.
Sahel, Sahel.