Contemplating the past

I am falling asleep. 

I've been out all day,
Walking up hilly dusty paths,
Under the scorching African sun.

In the footsteps of a woman.
She is a symbol of an era,
That will soon be history,
Told in tales by old people to their grandchildren

She is a symbol of the past, 
Yet she is a symbol of the present. 
She was a traditional birth attendant. 
She is now a birth companion.

In a silent but powerful way she changed.
Dropping old practices, letting go of her income,
Turning her profession into a mission.
To remain a guardian of life.

Her eyes carry the wisdom of the long life she lived.
Her face carries the wrinkles of a myriad of emotions.
The memory of hundreds of lives brought to life.
I am contemplating history.

I am falling asleep.
My skin is burning.
My mind is peaceful.

I have African dust on my boots.
I have African smoke in my hair.
I have African sand under my eyelids.

My sleep is so much better.


  1. Lovely poem. I think you have Africa in your heart too, and that will stay there long after your boots and hair are clean!!

  2. Hi Robin, I loved this tribal ancestry reflection, and the photograph speaks more than a thousand words. Thank you for sharing your lessons and blessings. Peace

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