The Sands of the Southern Cross
Here at Birubi, if you can, Climb atop a dune of sand – Then feel the waves, not of sea, But silica coursing through your hand If your heart is pure, these sacred lands Will speak to you through every grain, You can hear a time from long before The world, a youth, a window-pane And the shifting sands will whisper soft In our shapelessness lies all our might This too is freedom, don’t you see? What is it then, that you hold so tight? I understand, liberty cannot be bound It is more alive in the dunes of sand, So I try to break the chains I hold, I bleed myself, I quench this land Somewhere in the dark, collapses all The tunnels of time, the sacred space And I see myself surrounded by The ancient elders of the Worimi race They nod in approval, I have set it free I have become worthy of the Southern Cross Their starlight pales me in silver wash An eagle now, I know no loss My dreams break with a crash of the sea, I am stil...
