FALLEN BLOSSOM

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The dawn had barely tied its golden wrapper

around the shoulders of the earth

when you slipped away,

young as the dew upon elephant grass,

gentle as a mother's lullaby.

The village waited for your laughter,

but only silence answered from the hills.


Women wailed beneath the mango trees,

and the river carried sorrow on its back.

"I cito kwene kara?"cried a trembling voice.

Where have you gone, little flower?

For Death, that patient hunter,

plucks even the brightest blossom before harvest.


Yet when the stars gather above the homeland,

I hear the ancestors whisper, "Bin gang."

Come home.

And I know you are dancing where pain cannot follow,

your name blooming in our hearts like wild lilies,

for those we love never truly die

they become the songs 

we cannot stop singing.

                      ~Emmanuel Rwotngeyo Abwola 

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