My Country & I

As the soft red soil transition to hard cement

The indents left on the track lessen and disappear 

Though my feet no longer feel the ground I tread 

I carry the traces of the soil in the soles of my shoe

I carry the fresh rain scent in the tangles of my hair 

I carry the grass blades at the tips of my fingers 

I carry the morning dews in the folds of my eyes 

I carry bits and pieces of Country through places

Red soil grazes the paths I have taken 

Acidic rain burns the flesh and soften my calluses 

Ashened grass crunches under my weight 

Fresh dew turns sordid as I reminisce

The soles of my shoes are now worn and gray 

My hair became one with the thick smog 

My fingertips maroon from the pricks of bricks 

My feet no longer imprint on my tracks

As Country ceases to exist,

So do I.