Sankofa

In the hush of dawn, where spirits whispers tales,
Sankofa, ancient messenger, unfurls her wings.
Beneath the silk of time, she ventures, she sails,
To where the past and present dance in sacred rings.

On the emerald shores of Jamaica's yesteryears,
Sankofa strides, her ebony feathers unfurled.
In a medley of history, she peers,
Gathering the fragments of a bygone world.

Through sugar cane fields and mountain's embrace,
Sankofa strides, leaving her footprints in the soil.
She whispers to the breeze, through each intimate grace,
Unravelling tales of triumph and toil.

In Maroon enclaves, where freedom took root,
Sankofa weaves the saga of warriors bold.
Through the drumbeats, resilient and resolute,
The heartbeat of ancestors forever told.

Jamaica out of many one people whispers carried by the breeze,
Sankofa listens, her eyes a timeless well.
In the sacred forests, where spirits appease,
She unfolds the lore that history would tell.

In the marketplaces, where voices entwine,
Sankofa captures the cadence of the songs.
Of market vendors, a resilient line,
Their harmonies are where belonging belongs.

As the sun dips low, painting the sky,
Sankofa takes flight, bearing tales on her plume.
In the embrace of the night, as time slips by,
Her ebony wings carry history's perfume.