By Amina Elmi
Published May 19, 2013
“Wake up, wake up”
these lines were compared to sweet melodies
which brought joy shining from my eyes and peace to my soul
these coloured chains had – as everything else – an ending
if I could scream my lungs out, I’d have done so
deliver freedom to an enslaved man and see which change
he had to offer to the worlds he hadn’t sensed in ages
the exact same world which had caused my eyes to bleed
my mother’s heart to cry and left our fathers fight in meaningless wars you also deprived a child from childhood
instead of laughs, the sound of screams functioned like an echo
in a tunnel through the city’s deserted streets
our people is known as lions of the African horn
read the history and you will hear the roar of our men
the sound of wisdom dripping from the beard of our elders
the beauty of my language were elevated through the essence of poetry
it is as if their ribbons were words they perfectly put together
to describe their soul in metaphysic sense
an artform beyond the world of many
nomads wrote their thoughts down on the heart formed walls
believing if some were to read it
they would understand—everything
the melodies were buried under the hearts of the people
but no longer did it seem to let them sing along
Soomaaliyeey toosoo
Toosoo isku tiirsada ee
Hadba kiina taagdaranee
Taageera waligiinee
RELATED: A Somali Symphony
a Somali symphony,
recited at the lips of mothers
embraced by a child’s sleep
protected by a man’s pride
and carried at the hearts of soldiers.
Amina Elmi, 19, lives and studies in Denmark. Besides poetry, she says, she also indulges in calligraphy. She is from Beled Weyn, Hiiraan, Somalia.
