When I feel the pains
Of our troubled society
I take my scribing quill
To design a beautiful day
When my bruised heart bleeds
For victims of strange creeds
I carefully scrutinize my heart
For the sacred voice of poetry
When my dewy inward eyes
Intuit their untold miseries
And their dreadful stories
I solemnly invoke Calliope
I seek out for Orunmila
The great Orisha of wisdom
And beckon on wise Anansi
Architect of heavenly bodies
I reach out to the ancestors
Delving into their memories
To find their sacred precepts
And revive our cultural resilience
©Alisonomi2020