Clayey skins

Waving winds

There are the voices of our ancestors

Gyrating, living in the veins of these winds



Listen deeply


Look closely


Fetch every voice within

Wrap them on your voice

Tie their itches around your waist


When the night collapses on the village

Beat the drums, free their spirits in the air

Call their names, celebrate their wounds


Let the children dance, play hide and seek

Let their laughters fill the air, let them echo

Sit the children on the handwoven mats

Tell them where they rooted 

Tell them who they are.