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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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