In a house where the dust
Swirls soft and low,
The heart of Africa
Beats with ancient glow.
Through narrow streets
Under broad palm leaves,
There's a rhythm to the dance
A dance that never deceives.

From these scanty homes
Warm and rich with tales,
Where the dust settles
And the wind sometimes wails,
A traveler here emerges,
Strong and and overly bold,
With dreams and stories
Stories yet to be told.

Her feet are swift
Her steps are light,
The dusty path can’t hold her
Despite its might.
Through cities and forests
Across deserts and plains
Her spirit constantly rising
Riding,not held by chains.

The road is long
The journey unknown,
But she is no stranger,
Each time coming home.
Loving her forlon village
Away from the bustling towns
She brings the joy
A joy that breaks the frown.

Her courage is born
Of the sunlit earth,
A testament to her spirit's worth.
Though dust may cling
And slow her pace,
It shall never dim
Never dim her glowing face.

From the dusty home
She has hit the road,
With strength and courage
As her constant code.
Each step she takes
Does pitch a new song
In the hearts of those
Those whose bells she has to ring.

Her journey is much more
More than miles and years,
It's woven from hopes,
Hopes dreams, and tears.
But through it all,
Her strength does hold true,
A symbol of the best
The best version of her.

She'll keep walking on ,
As long as there is a road
The journey may be long,
But she's since opened doors.
Far from her dusty home
To places a far off,
Because she is guiding,
She is a shining star.
© Be Kisambi