Monday, January 18, 2010

Son of a Somali Lion (Dedicated to my dad)

I’m the son of a Somali lion,
regal in all appearance, loved and revered in equal measure, a position fit for a king.
His highness walks with nobility...his eyes though weary of life’s cruelty, as it was cruel enough to take his queen, they show a twinkle of joy whenever they spot the sight of his cubs.
He then smiles remembering her for a minute; before he gives a roar that reviles the roles of thunder in respect for the cherished memory of her majesty their mother.
I am the son of a Somali lion,
as the lion climbs the highest of rocks he glances upon the safari plains looking on to his kingdom, gazing upon the furthest of objects that the setting sun allows him to see whilst enjoying the gentle and calming breeze that brushes his imperial mane he thinks of what was, what is, and what is to become.
Understanding the cycle of life and that he must protect his pride like his father did and his father before him...
I’m the son of a Somali lion, I roar in accordance with the roar of my father
though my efforts are plausible i have yet to be heard from a mile away. While that of my father stretches from the Somali plains to the Serengeti.
I look, listen and learn yet with each step i grow closer to the throne i stop to wonder and question my abilities. Be that as it may, i know, like the celestial patterns that make up shapes of men and creatures that forever baffled astronomers, it is written in the stars.
so let me take my first step in climbing these rocks as my father did as did his, and let the wind brush through my mane, let the thunder be jealous of my roar, and let it reach the Serengeti.
and in taking my final step let me join my father and his father and his on the mountain above the safari looking on to our kingdom and at once roar a roar that silences the storms, shakes the African ground and proclaims what is to be true...we are here, we are lions....we are kings.

Mohamed Jamal Mohamed (SIRAT)
Copyright ©2010

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