Of Spirits and Feathers : Zaouli Dance of An Ostrich

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In dust-swept lands where the rhythms rise,

A dancer moves with fire in his eyes.

His mask a spirit, fierce and grand,

He spins like a top in sun-baked sand.

Born of the Guro, traditions hold him tight,

Zaouli's feet, a blur of light,

Beat the drum of day and night.

He is the village's vibrant heart,

A storyteller, playing his sacred part.

Each jump, each sway, a prayer made real,

For harvest blessings, spirits to heal,

A ritual ancient, in Ivory Coast's embrace,

Bringing harmony to time and space.

This pulse of life, the people's mighty beat,

A testament to strength, enduring, sweet.

A whisper to the world, a vibrant plea,

Of culture's depth, for all to see.

Feathers plume on desert's edge,

An ostrich strides with royal pledge.

Her long neck sways, a silent crane,

Scanning horizons, through sun and rain.

She pecks at shrubs, a grounded queen,

Guarding her clutch, a watchful, wild scene.

Grace in thunder, speed in grace,

A ballet born from nature’s pace.

So too the ostrich, bold and free,

Marks time with primal symmetry.

In every feather, wind's soft, caring touch,

Nature's deep embrace, loving us so much.

A symbol wild, on wind-blown plains,

Of freedom's call, where true life reigns.


Both grounded deep in earthen lore,

Yet float like myths forevermore.

A sacred dance, a silent run,

Two echoes swaying under sun.

One born of drum, one born of wing,

Together in the dust, they sing.

Spirit and bird, a mirrored trance—

In every step, a skyward dance.


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