Dedication to Limba - RIP - Child of Africa....

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I wrote this 11 years ago, but today its for Limba.. a tortured soul, enslaved for human entertainment in a zoo in faraway Canada...

Who knew the cold snow of a foreign land, but never ever the hot sunlight of her homeland which was her birthright, stolen from her...

And for all the animals (and humans) trapped far from home, enslaved, despairing....


Child of Africa

Snow is drifting gently down

but it’s the hot veldt air ruffling my hair

and I don’t  feel the soft flakes on my upturned face

nor the whispering wind on my skin

for I raise my eyes to wide African skies

and this world around me goes dim;

As the roar of the traffic dulls my mind

I feel a hunger so strong, so deep

the pulse of the land that shaped me

calling to me in my sleep

I must go soon, my spirit is dying

longing for the majestic still

pacing this cage, my soul is crying

for the rolling green valleys and hills;

The meandering rivers, blood of the land

wending their way to the seas

from the rugged peaks through the desert sands

this rhythm of life is in me;

Before me stretch vast horizons

spirit untamed by human hand

speaking to me as it always has

born of the earth

one with the land;

Back to the glory, the savage beauty

beating always in my veins

this restless yearning, always burning

cooled only by soft summer rains;

Soaring through the silent space

the wild is waiting, alive and free

the hot desert sun is kissing my face

my mother, my home, welcoming me

I fall to the ground, the bare earth in tears,

She sees my pain

She knows my fears

cries with me, 

tears soaking into the ground

I feel Her heart beating

one with mine

Thunder rumbles

I know his voice

I’ve roared with him many times before

The air is charged, lightening flickers

spirit awakes, the land answers my call

Rain lashes down

and I tear off the layers

stand naked before heaven

and scream out my pain

wind is tearing around me

chaos erupts inside me

thunder crashes his anger, lightening bursts into flame;

Tears mingle with the rain

washing me clean once again

raw and alive I am strong

storm eases off

wind calms her fury

exultant I stand proud to carry on;

When my body eventually stills

take me back to the rolling hills

lay me down to rest in my land of birth

on the gentle breast of Mother Earth

to the silent splendor where I used to roam

I’m a child of Africa, take me home

London, 2002

Christine Jordaan

© 2017

Neytiri Tskaha and Mariana Fernandes...  don't cry for her death... its her life that must make humanity weep!

Please note this is NOT my photo of Limba - I will try to find the source and credit asap. Feel free to post it as a comment underneath if you know it!!  Thankyou source!!


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