We danced in rhythms
and sang thunderously, unanimously!
the tumping of our foots, tup’-tup’’
raised dusts of cheer and smiles
as we swayed to the left and right in styles.
As the ancestors did, we followed
even in diverse distant lands, our roots near
our hearts burn each time we hear the gong.
The knowledge of our heroes past
shall lead us aright fast!
Our gongs are shattered
with wars, wounds, no shelter;
tears trickling down as all is lost
but we still blame each other at all cost
saying,”who scattered the gong?”
Assemble all products of sounds,
let ready dancers dance even in the heat.
Like our hearts our drums beat
no matter the trials, the gong would play
as we would still hope and pray.
Read – The Atheist’s Grace – A Poem by Mookodi Sesame, Botswana
