When you enter a room and see no ’semblance of you
When you want to shrink and fold into yourself,
close your eyes and listen.
Listen to the rhythmic sound of bata drum
from the men that came before you.
Hear the roar of ululation from your mothers.
Your sisters bend at the waist, jigida adorning their hips.
Red soil buried under the feet of your brothers
when they move forward, double tap, back once. Side to side.
Their arms, shiny and glistering under the sun.
They dance to the music of the gods.
The defiance of the gods lays within you.
Rise up, child of my ancestors.
Rise up, child of the gods.
Rise up! Stand tall!