No man can resist a stay,
a jewel of sovereignty
where real boys play.
No inkling of poverty
can describe your land,
its beauty and its deserted clay.
Strangled by loss of wisdom
they come to seek your truth.
Children dance in tandem
living off the fruit.
Moreover perplexed by innocence,
a thought you have instilled,
a people of obedience
hope, fun and goodwill.
They continue their darkened ways
while you continue to play.
They return to a life that pays
back to their cities of decay.
Your strength is what they seek,
your simplicity unrivaled or matched.
What hope prevents the meek?
While honesty of core, remains unscratched!
(Dedicated to my friends of the Kuna Yala tribe of the San Blas, autonomous region of panama)
Copyright © Gerald Webb