My Africa, you call to me
In the grunting of the lion And the cry of the fish eagle You paint your skies in red and orange and dust And you allow me to walk in your spoor, today. I hear your heart beat in the thunder of herds And I recognise your voice in the splashing of the rain And you die each year to be born again in the flight of the butterflies and the bats... Is it a wonder that you have captured my heart So that I mourn you when we are apart? Sometimes I fear you. Mama Afrika, I will always respect your vastness and tenderness, to me, of man, Visiting your wild and sacred spaces. (K.Feldman 2013)
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