For Brenda O Connell who completed a monumental task in a fierce manner.
I will come from your hinterlands to fling open your doors,
I will swim from your oceans to strike at your shores.
I will climb up your trees and let my voice soar.
And when you should stop, I will sing more.
I will cross your borders to pitch my flag,
I will scale your walls to stand and brag.
I will take down your drum and beat it to four,
And when you should stop, I will beat more.
I will walk through your lands to take up my place,
I will name each woman and state their case.
I will dance their pain and sing their mores.
And when you shout stop, I will let my voice soar.
I will take up a stick to shape their face on the land,
I will stamp the truth of their past in each grain of sand.
I will paint their joys and tear up their veils,
And when you shout exile, l will pull down the sails.
And then when we meet me on the road as we will
I will offer my name and expect to hear yours.
I will meet you half way and stand fast where I am
Emboldened by voices from a whisper to a roar!
