The Dust
The dust rises from the beaten ground
The drum of a thousand feet
Pound pound
The chant of ancient voices invoking freedom
Singing an unwritten song
Calling mother Africa
Calling back generations
Calling together gods that existed before the nations, stations, and invitations.
Beaded arms flailing digging up millennia
This is our history written in dust and stamped into the earth
And its given birth to everything since.
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