Broken Mosaic, shattered relic
Pieces strewn about you.
Tiny fragments, larger swatches
All over the globe that surrounds you
Your children fill the cracks, the corners, the surfaces
With hopes to survive, to dream again of possibilities
But in the sunken orifices and jagged ridges
on the barren deserts and war battered landscapes
hearts sink and heads bow
babies bleed, and people die, labor, plead
Spirits are shrunken. Prayer has not rebuilt our shattered lives. We ask
How much longer must we suffer? Must we swelter and starve
Clinging to the fringes of our Mother’s cloth?
Few find footholds in luck and luxury.
More mind exit routes, depart their ancestry
We must rebuild
We must heal
We must getup
We must mend
We must plant, farm, produce construct
We must reclaim, love , protect, defend
But above all, we must reconnect
How else to see the picture our creator did intend?
How else to help my sister reemerge from the cracks and cleaves
Draped in the robes of pride and dignity our cultures on us adorn
Piece by piece, clump by clump, a fluid puzzle with shifting shape
We remake, we stitch back, we combine and redesign
Broken mosaic, shattered relic,
But motherland, we still recognize you
You have an everlasting strength, a beauty that will never die
So do not lie and weep, but gather and rise
For your children need you
Though the booted foot of the armed soldier hover over you
Though the strings of the puppeteer hope to bind you
These can not hold power in the face of your true strength
These will not claim victory over your determined stride.
Written by: Ada Amara