Nyah

Sleep goes trembling away,
scared of her rude awakening.

Her body bears fatigue well
And she does not grudge the burning sun that awaits crouched.

Dawn carries an air that lifts the colorful bedspread,
looking for the echo of night drums.

The nakedness of her dark feet extends behind the window.

Over an earth disturbed by prohibited greed,
hurt by the despicable fate of a chained past.

She owns her free present though,
and her smile distorts the sad memories.

She is the guardian of her own flock and she bends her knee to no one.

She has found her path.

She leaves the house,
pushing aside the shadows that block her way with both hands.

Acacias, bushes and sycamores outline the horizon.

She owns a spirit as high as the width of the landscape.

Her eyes stop at the rising sun.

She places her hand over the curve of her belly and whispers a song.

Far away, a lioness roars making the grass subdue.

An omen.

She knows it will be a girl.

A good omen.