They left this morning
for the summit, to see
the sun dancied
for the new year.
We too used to go there at dawn,
Pegged the perfect spot
On the highest point of Chisiya,
Our own Kilimanjaro here,
When it finally peeped out
The sun would find we had already
Danced its message, and the new year
Was already croaking its budding message,
And when we insisted on looking
To see how the sun winced,
We walked away, aware that although
disappointed, it would never scotch
Scotch us with its anger.
They came back and said they saw it.
We nodded, understanding that they
Would die to know one day
They will sit like us now
And not even pretend to believe.
They too will look at own
Returning from summits with tales
Of sun's soukous and ululatation
And will not nod without belief.
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