Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Echoes of the Hills


From a higher realm,
the echoes reverberate
carrying eavesdropped conversations
of hills.  The peak salutes the sun
bowing to the sanctified caves;

the incessant squeaks of hyraxes
echo across the hills;
frightened segesege chased by farmers
adept mayosoy ambling over tree-branches

we are at this moment, fellow pilgrim
treading on the boulders of this hill
upon weathered rocks, rotting roots
to smell a whiff of nature’s scent
or to spot footprints on molten lava

“sons and daughters of the hills,”
we shall hear,
“you don’t axe sacred roots
you don’t hunt the hyraxes”

but the hills are desecrated
defaced by bullets;  
polluted by sly pilgrims;

one day, just one day,
the hills will rebel.


Lorot Son of the Hills’ Notes:

Segesege- Kiswahili for porcupine
Mayosoy- Pokot for monkeys



WildWoman2 said...

I love how you write your poems to a "fellow pilgrim"...lovely......

echoesofthehills said...

Thanks a lot, Koko. That is the echo spirit.

Post a Comment

Echoes of the Hills is all about you. I would love to hear your echo...

You Might Also Like

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Disqus for Echoes of the Hills