echo 
My fellow men are my strength,
But they are also my downfall,
The perpetrators of my pain,
They claim their innocence,
But their choices are attached to my chains,
And I have heard them rattle to proclaim,
That our freedom is the ultimate gain,
And yet they jingle the keys before us,
And thrust them away.
To our chaos, you may shut your eyes,
As another shuts theirs eternally,
Sleep soundly in your safety,
As our slumber is set aflame,
Whirlpools of dust and waste,
Gathering into an impenetrable slate,
But wait, where is the humanity we were promised?
Reserved for people of your caucus,
Rendering red rain upon us.
We hear little voices say,
“Will they come back another day?”
As they breathe life into melinite,
Prowling the grounds for an innocent stray,
Condemning souls who merely pray,
Reflected apprehension in children’s gaze,
Cradled by whitewashed walls,
Discarded birthday cards and crestfallen faces,
Decorate interiors in careless splotches.
Heatless dawn becomes a miracle,
With only mountaintops set ablaze,
Forfeit the pandemonium and violence,
For the chittering laughter of jays,
Gilded gates that mark our glory,
Eradicate all soulful darkness,
Forsake not our loyal descendents,
As you mark my soul for vanquishment,
I tread this journey; guided by none.
We carry home in our minds and hearts,
And seek it in every crevice of senses,
We numb our tongues to the words of our ancestors,
And bottle the familiar scents of our spices,
Gentle rolling hills that invade our vision,
Beams of overhead heat still warms our skin,
And stroke us with its motherly whispers,
But the winds beyond the horizon guide us away,
For our birthright, there it lies.
Await me at the zenith of lands,
With the towering minarets ahead,
My mother’s sacred sanctuary,
Promise me you shall remain,
So I may grasp your hand,
And bask in the light of your gloaming,
Standing in the shadows of my people,
To end my restless roaming,
And finally say, “I have returned home.”
By: Julia Rosalyn
