We have grown
from the roots
of this little place,
my friends,
the bowels
of the grave,
the deposit
of our genes.
We are the indigenous,
the core,
come up through
the trees
very centre,
grown into the leaves,
inhaled by the sky
and lifted upwards
until we reach
the warmth of freedom
and the path
of our ancestors.
We will nourish eternity
with our spirits.
Sally Plumb
Hi Sally I particularly like this poem it just seems to make so much sense regarding the nature of our existence thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
‘…until we reach /the warmth of freedom…’ Yeah… freedom is Goal 10 Ms. Nivedita UK
Thanks for your interest, Niv. Sallyx