Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
(The Burning Tree)
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
(When we stand amongst giants)
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one. - Maya Angelou
(The Wildest of flowers)
