adorning my roots.

Of the past I admire but it isn't nostalgia,

for today I'm not proud I forgot this culture.

Look at me, unpredictable with no vision for the future,

where is the culture that adorned my past with stature?

Maybe thrown to the gutters,

irretreavable; in shumbles and tatters.

Today I make a turn not so good but bold,

to attach my name to a stronghold-

where men and women treasure their roots as gold,

Whereas mine litters the goldmines already sold.

To my ancestors I shall return,

even though they exist not, my heritage I'll earn.

I'll have secured my posterity when I'll be gone;

to avade a cultural crisis that's unknown.

Listen to my second name that's unheard of,

in it engulfed is grandpa's epitaph.

From today I'll carry grandpa's name in admiration,

maybe in my character and image we shared an imagination-

fulfilling the mystery of reincarnation,

at a time this thought was unheard of in our generation.

Bunguswa Writes.