41st Independence Celebrations (a Poem)
Forty One, forty one
it’s not like you're twenty one
let me tell a tale for everyone
Celebrations everywhere
Kumuls pride high in the air
Red black and gold colour the daylight skies
Southern Cross shines bright above the starry nights
Forty One! Forty One!
Makes you feel like twenty one
Kundu beat echoes garamut for everyone
Ancestral spirits come out to dance
shaking rattles, glistening bodies adorned with scented leaves
Plumes of colourful feathers swaying in the wind
all her children are left gaping in awe
Forty One! Forty One!
For it is almost like twenty one
Fires rekindled the night
Take a seat and listen to the witch doctors riddles
Throughout the night
Lime pot rattles amidst betelnut spittle
legends are brought to life.
Forty One! Forty One!
It was just about twenty past one
before everyone falls into slumber
a little child asks,
what will tomorrow bring?
Hush hush little child
let tomorrow care for its own
we are here today and gone tomorrow
reaching for the next betelnut.
Little did she know,
Only the whispers of the night
The restless child within yearns beyond doubt and fear
beyond the mountains, valleys and across the oceans and Islands
Her only dreams are carried by the trade winds.
Crying "Her Tomorrow is Our Tomorrow"
Forty One! Forty One, is for everyone.
