I live yet another day to sing of my ordeals of yesteryear. As I lay on the parched sand on the ocean's skirt, I hear the storm shriek out all my miseries, permitting only the horrific ones to reach the heart's ear. This wind drums and the sea became my sacred tears. Today I share a story of my resurrection like the Phoenix in Vhalah that was ransacked of its pride, persecuted for its excellence, and shamed for its burning soul. I came alive today. God leisured at my entrance from the dirt. He watched from his high table as I rewrote my future with the enemy's blood. That day we rejoiced in celebrations of colorful tears and ululations from our souls. They thought they could bury me. But when I rose from the dead, I cloaked my battered figure with that very dust they blew to my grave, washed all my defects with the lifeless roses the layed on that grave. I live to tell the story of how they worship the ground I walk upon, for I am reborn. I am that Phoenix.
©nkosi
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