The soul of the land
wears the soles of my shoes
until I’m walking Soul to soil, barefoot.
Like a footloose soldier
upon battle fields won and lost,
I’m fighting for freedom,
and my last breathe
it may cost.
So you can bury me above
skeletons of the past to be loved.
And walk on me,
a path I’ll be,
to return with a leaf like a dove –
don’t fall to your knees when push comes to shove.
From a shadow on the water
I’m high above the sands,
seeing ancient spaces, with loose laces,
now in foreign hands.
As the sun rises on one cheek
and sets on the next;
the road is long but yet to begin,
Bury me between
dug up graves of old days to be seen,
by passers by,
as that guy,
who stood for something he believed –
who died for a life he wouldn’t live to see.
Met a man on the street not so long ago;
he turned out to be both my friend and my foe.
Looked into his eyes, surprised to find;
staring back at me weren’t his eyes –
Forever changing direction
on feet like the wind,
I pass a house left in ruins
before building even begins.
And I may trip and I may fall
but I’ll get up and carry on.
My solid soul of soil under the ground
turns to stone.
And bury me below
the good seeds of the future to sow
of greener fields
and watch as the grass beneath your feet starts to grow –
Now I taught you to walk; that is all you need to know.
I once went to a party with Elephantitis and painted me a new hand.