My Africa
by Jenneffer Sixkiller
September 2009
A place where the stars surround me
like a blanket of hidden secrets
just waiting to be revealed.
Where the sun's departure leaves a trail
So colorful that it
Takes my breath away.
Where I run with gusto and leave a trail of children
in my wake
Whom I know will remember me tomorrow.
Where the roosters are confused
But sometimes so am I
Maybe
If I make enough hand gestures, and
Say dumela with a smile
Someone will understand me.
Where I never know
Which child belongs to whom
And it doesn't even matter
Where the scent of orange blossoms
Perfumes the air and
Permeates my memory
Of who I am
of who I was,
of who I can become.
Where I have a new family,
a new hane,
a new home.
by Jenneffer Sixkiller
September 2009
A place where the stars surround me
like a blanket of hidden secrets
just waiting to be revealed.
Where the sun's departure leaves a trail
So colorful that it
Takes my breath away.
Where I run with gusto and leave a trail of children
in my wake
Whom I know will remember me tomorrow.
Where the roosters are confused
But sometimes so am I
Maybe
If I make enough hand gestures, and
Say dumela with a smile
Someone will understand me.
Where I never know
Which child belongs to whom
And it doesn't even matter
Where the scent of orange blossoms
Perfumes the air and
Permeates my memory
Of who I am
of who I was,
of who I can become.
Where I have a new family,
a new hane,
a new home.
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