The winds of change are sweeping 
Across the deserts of my despairing
Soul and the blood of the women warriors 
Whose battle cry
Can still be heard echoing 
From the caves of my suppressed truth 
Is awakening. 

The gods of time are sighing 
From their watch towers
And my ancestors 
Must be glad to see me returning 
Home to myself
While I am yet to witness 
My own rebirth. 

The vibrations of peace are flooding
My body with every breath 
And I can feel
A tide of calmness washing 
Over every cycle
My spirit has held close. 

The dying light is adamantly glowing
From the shadows 
And the dark clouds hovering
Over my shrines 
Are reluctantly lifting off 
For me to regain
My spiritual sight again.

A season of spilling expressions 
Has enticed the mind 
And the tips of my pens are itching
To stitch yesterday's regrets 
With tomorrow dreams 
As a collection of bittersweet poems
About the imbalance. 

![PSX_20220628_122658.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/tezmel/23rB7WdNrDUNWX7XYR9XnbUrceWoMgCuF7xuYj89qKnnxVFcUosSq5GGEFoSfFWnpyQTw.jpg)

*Too much has been going on and I am trying to reemerge from the hole I have been hiding in. If only there was a way this creative wave can stay for a little longer then I would gladly leave my comfort zone.*

<sub>**wambuku w.**</sub>