Lost to rhythms of sorrow

last night after the welcoming dinner
I knew we had given up the wind of music and
melodies of sweet songs of Home

I knew
we had sold beyond bounds of sorrow
our minds, our souls, our hearts
but
somewhere inside me
I remembered the story told of the coming of a ship
that carried away into captivity my people
and tears slowly tracked down my face
adding to the salty sad sea in which
our joys have long been drowned

deep inside these bounds of sorrow
I remembered the mountains of wild imaginings
I nursed many years ago about crossing the ocean
and they came crashing down
with an illusion-shattering bump
and I watched in wonder and silence

it was in these bounds of sorrow
I dreamt of Home
soft dreams about families with royal hopes
regal dreams of young and old elegant faces
I still dream of the rich grasses of the veldts
and the long walks on village lanes with kiths and kinsmen
I dream too of the goats and sheep of my Grandma

I dream of all these
and run out of tears of sadness and sorrow

I have grown sick of these songs of sorrow
I want to cross the long rivers of solitude
to sing new songs of joy
and dance beyond the rhythms of sorrow
on village lanes with kiths and kinsmen