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| Photo Credit: flickr |
My feet will grow weary sometimes
As I travel here,
My head will be stuffed sometimes
As I travel here,
The incessant drone will fill my ears
But
I remain a pilgrim.
I have been to this road before,
My ancestors shook this dust before
They looked up to the Sun,
“Kong’asis”,
they named the East
Their feet was bruised by rocks,
Yet they climbed treacherous hills and mountains
There is music in my ears,
There is fresh air filling my lungs
As I travel here,
I see distant homesteads beyond the hills
I will set forth
I will tighten my akala shoes
As I travel here,
I know the destination
As I travel here,
My heart is full of joy of this sojourn
Poem shared with Real Toads.
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8 comments:
Salem, this is so incredibly beautiful. I love your Pilgrim poems so much (I see a Book!) So nice to see you posting at Real Toads. Yay!I love the way you describe yourself walking the road, and then remember those who walked it before. Love your closing line so much! Koko
Walking in the ancestors foot prints... nice.
This is beautiful. I love "I remain a pilgrim."
Pilgrims all...such is our "Pilgrim's Progress". Your joy gives me dance, your words sing the tune.
Finally, Koko!
And I am at Real Toads at last.
I am excited.
You are most welcome, Margaret, for setting foot on these sacred hills. Enjoy your pilgrimage around.
De, welcome to these hills.
#inpleasantpilgrimagefashion
Thanks a lot, TUG.
Your inspire me a lot. :)
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Echoes of the Hills is all about you. I would love to hear your echo...