Ancestral Land

In our land, there are no towering peaks, To guide our dreams to the heights one seeks. Even humble rocks resemble great hills, And groves seem like forests in their thrills. Our rivers don’t rush with a turbulent flow, They meander gently, serene and slow. You can’t quench your thirst with a single sip, When your lips are parched and cracked at the tip. Without mountains or forests, we lack a shield, No refuge for storms when the winds reveal. You’ll stray from the road in a blinding gale, Where blizzards rage, cold and pale. The sticky mud clings like a friend too close, Even the swamp shows its love the most. And the scorching heat, like a fiery brand, Burns the stones, searing the land. Your skin will itch with no relief, When the buzzing mosquitoes bring you grief. You’ll squint your eyes, barely open wide, When the sandstorms swirl, and the winds collide. Golden cradle, purest place, Unseen by many, misunderstood space. Some might scoff and mock its state, Saying, "Even a dog wouldn’t tolerate." Oil pumps he black gold below, Forever spinning, steady they go. Behind the city, tied to that post, Many dogs bark at what matters most. No mountains or forests to cast their shade, But never a worry in my heart has stayed. The endless steppe, my boundless quest, With horizons far, it grants me rest. The familiar hills, the plains I see, Are dearer than flames to my eyes, to me. I weave them into my songs with pride, These cherished lands where my heart resides. For you, my soul bursts into song, With melodies bold and echoes strong. My beloved ANCESTRAL LAND, I love you deeply! I love you grand!