When the poplars stood proud

Keeping watch on the valley

The water’s flow their guide,

Measuring time

The grass blades, unfurling,

Spelt the stories of peoples

Which, like braille, could be read

With palms only

There, by that riverbank

You wrapped each other in song,

Dwelt inside tradition

Sheltered by one.

Here, we stand unsure now

How to wear those strange customs -

Stitching ’til they fit or

Letting them hang?

We wait for rhythm to  

Start her count and into steps

Now forgotten, once more

Lead us orphans