Wailing at the Baobab

I wonder if I could hear them.

Maybe if I sit long enough at your feet?

Their stories rest here,

Burrowed in the depths of these roots.

Seeped in relics of tormented veins.

Tears stream on trails along crevices of your bark.

Blood flowing, a sap, unspoiled and pure.

Tresses dangling like these vibrant leaves.

Swaying ebbs, swathing flows as the ocean waged harrowing death songs.

They carried away brethren to moons far beyond.

Shattering hopes for harvests to come.

An unwelcome journey into seemingly endless bondage.

Dreams left on shores that once held the promise of love and kin.

Scathing wounds on hearts abound.

Wailing mountains reached for sons,

While aching hills cried for daughters.

Tresses dangling like these vibrant leaves.

Swaying ebbs, swathing flows as the ocean waged harrowing death songs.

Through it all, You endured.

You stand in full bloom holding truths to the pain of yesteryear,

Still keeping guard of these shores

Where sons and daughters wailed.

And now kings and queens roam.

Reshaping a destiny once altered.

Charting paths nestled in a regal ancestry,

Unspoiled. Not tainted.

A welcome journey, to a unique destiny,

Reclamation of what was once ordained.

Tresses dangling like these vibrant leaves.

Swaying ebbs, swathing flows, as the ocean calls, “brethren come home.”