I sing
For the times of peace and plenty
For the times of laughter and love
For stomachs filled with bounties
For brows kissed with kindness
For lovers sated with pleasure.
I sing
For mornings of disquiet and
Perplexity turning to assurance.
I sing
In the moonlit night,
The wind carrying my melody to the
weary.
I sing
For the child cringing in the dark
For the widow brewing black tears
For the soldiers at war. For these,
For many I sing;
One voice, many melodies
I sing my song.
-By Kirsten Okenwa
