The Name

In a language that the mother of all my mothers spoke 
I bear you a gift from the filthy muddy stream,
 coloured in the design of  the ivory sky 
It follows the sun 
From morn to dusk.
A slow dance in the wind
In curved and a slender neck
The only journey it will ever have .
Purest of them all 
That rise from the water 
In a shape of a single drop
Innocent, 
Yet tainted by words that need to collaborate 
I give you my name
The name of all names.
From my core 
The universe took form
From deep with me 
The creator took his first breath
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace