Reach out my heart for a calm sea within my soul
Listen to the running brook that carries memories of so many by ways
in the highlands of a virgin land somewhere;
Be still my stomach from the fluttering of anxious thoughts and
carry within the sunburst of a flat stretch from Bishoftu to Methara;
Feel the warmth of the high sun and fix your eyes on the acacia trees
that grace the parched terrain.
Be still and embrace all that is printed in your genetic code;
carry it everywhere and let people see it in your eyes;
Touch their hearts with your open smile.
Be still my heart with acceptance for all that is lost, and
all that is stillborn.
Be still with remembrance of a graceful people and
a sense of belonging that was shattered now here as a healed scar.
Be still my blood do not rise or boil and make my head spin with anger and wrath;
Be still and help me instead to transform and morph into a soul of grand eloquence
so I could convey the truth, the ugly and the arcane and deliver it as sublime fruit.
Be still my tongue but move only with love and compassion
to tell the story of my passing generation.
By Hanna Kebbede
Date undetermined (sometime in the 90s)
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