Dedicated to the missionaries in Africa, whose stories left an indelible impression. |
I Dreamed A Dream Of Africa I dreamed a dream of Africa, The red clay earth did call. Beasts in fields were plentiful, They danced before us all. The villagers resplendent, In batiks of tribal hue, Walking by so royally, Nodding greetings to me and you. The flutes and drums on whispers, Of the hot and parching wind, Played a gentle healing song, That spoke of rains on roofs of tin. The coolness of the rain forests, where bright frogs and birds abide, And the Mbuti climb the canopy to fetch the honey from the hive Oh the coolness, Oh the perfumes the shaded flowers would express See the footprints that was Eden Where God would walk and rest Feel the earth blow rather dusty, carrying the smell of creatures quick Jaguars chase the chosen prey, to the treelines deep and thick Hear the stories of the old ones Hummed in tones so sweet and low Hear the breathing and the sighing Where thoughts of all the elders go Hear the footsteps, see them sojourn Where modern time has not yet come Where the wise ones reject the modern And Heaven to them is kin and home Echoes of the sweetest children, Running barefoot to a meeting house, Where white-garbed missionaries read While they listen wide-eyed as a mouse. The cooking fires send earthy spices, Drifting upwards into the sky. Along with whispered prayers of thanks, To have a mighty God so close by. Leaving is hard,But it helps remembering That all of us are part African Where God took the dust of Eden, and made the first man and woman By: Kimarie Manhart-Freeman |