Raised by the bare bones of nature’s grace, <br />my home held hands with the feral forest, <br />where nature hid her gold. <br /> <br />I have heard palm trees whisper their stories <br />I have listened to the silent full moon quietly teach <br />lessons of those who had lived. <br />I know of the green secrets of the earth <br />Soft voices of searching roots that sprout forth, cluster <br />around my hut to tell. <br /> <br />I am from the bowels of Africa, <br />I understand the tongue of the wild. <br />I have swayed to the blue songs of humming birds that fill the <br />tree branches with their nests. <br />I have had breakfast plucked ripe off the tree <br />and lunch caught right from the river. <br />I have aimed a stick in the forest and secured supper. <br /> <br />I am from the bowels of Africa, <br />where nature’s breast milk flows from palm trees <br />and every suckle leaves a smile on wrinkled ebony faces. <br /> <br />I am from the bowels of Africa, <br />I have seen rains held up at the summons of wooden carved gods. <br />women foretell events of the next day, and men <br />hear voices of elders long dead. <br /> <br />I am from the bowels of Africa <br />I am carolled to dreamland by <br />crickets, frogs and fireflies <br />that mime nature’s song at night fall <br /> <br />I am from the bowels of Africa, <br />I am the dark secret held by the sun<br /><br />konye ori<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/secret-of-the-sun/
