The African breeze stirs
The air balmy with promise
I watch the sea of grass
shimmering on a heatwave
a lone windmill
A rusty barn
The remnants of a beautiful farm
The whitewashed walls broken in ruin
bullet holes confess of war and doom
like open wounds
The lost souls of those fallen
I swear I can hear them calling
Cries of anguish echo all around
as I trespass on holy ground
But beauty lives in history
Its ugly truth revealed to me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem