The Voice of Olori

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From shadowed gorge, where sorrow lies in wait,
From thorn-kissed boughs, where ancient wounds create,
From charred river's edge, where life and hope were burned,
From hunter's fang, where flesh and spirit yearned –
I rise.

Like storm-born rage, a tempest taking hold,
Like fury etched in earth, a story to unfold,
Like cinders black, from primal fires torn,
Like river's grief, in torrents newly born –
I rise.

From cracked earth's sigh, a breath of heated ground,
From ancient rock's slow blink, where truths profound are found –

I rise like flame, consuming all that's weak,
A wildfire's wrath, the silent tongue will speak.
Now, in Budngo's heart, where shadows softly creep,
I stand, a Agojie born from troubled sleep.
My feet recall Karura's sacred space,
My limbs the serpent's coil, in Arabuko's grace.

This iron brand, a whisper on my skin,
Awakens ghosts of what has long since been.
And from this memory, a song takes flight,
A melody of darkness and of light.

Never forget how you became you ....

My gaze, obsidian shards that pierce the lie,
My cheeks, a furnace where old angers cry:
Who dares to scorch my Himba's vibrant grace?
Who steals the breath of Bushmen's sacred space?
Who bleeds the Daasanach, their ancestral keep?
Who chains the Zulu soul, in slumber dark and deep?

Never forget how you became you.... 

I am Olori. Here, my spirit reigns.
Beyond these walls, the echo of their chains.
But in my voice, a power starts to bloom,
Like smoke through stone, dispelling all the gloom.

I taste the yam, from Congo's fertile shore,
I feel the faint beneath the flowering core.
And see the watchful eyes, that held the night at bay,
When shadows crept, and dawn seemed far away.


Didn't you  graze where our strong cattle trod?
Didn't you  hands remove our tribal god?
Didn't you axes fall our tree, our chrping birds fly?
Didn't your toil reach even to our sky?
Did we not weep where your dark battles bled?
Did we not serve the gods you claimed instead?

Never forget how you became you.... 

Yet then the chains, the binding of our will,
The branded mind, the spirit forced to still.
And on our broken backs, your kingdom grew,
A tapestry of sorrow, stark and new.

Never forget how you became you.... 

I see the forts, on bones of kin they stand,
The roads you carved upon our yielding land.
The mountains crossed upon our weary frame,
The oceans sailed upon our breath of flame.

Never forget how you became you...

New gods you brought, new laws, a foreign tongue,
But names you dealt like lashes, sharply flung:
"Untouchable," a curse upon our name,
"Poor gods," you sneered, devoid of all acclaim.
Just slaves we were, no blossom in the dust,
No beast that roams, no worm in whom to trust.

Never forget how you became you ....

If we but crawled, your heel would crush us down,
If we stood tall, your fire would wear our crown
Of burning skin. If words dared leave our tongue,
Your searing scorn would leave us all unsung.
You gorged our strength, you wore our land as dress,
You stole our gods, and called our pain success.

Never forget how you became you ....

But I, Olori, with fire in my soul,
Stand in this moment, making spirits whole.
From cracked earth's rage, a vengeance takes its flight,
From Racism's gaze, I claim my stolen light.

I am Olori. Like a mountain's might,
Like bamboo strong, that bends but will not blight,
I stand unbowed, beneath the judging sky.
And to your memory's claim, I will not lie.
I will not kneel.

You should remember how you became you ....




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