The Children Of The Wind Poem by Raymond Farrell

Clay plastered round huts
Dot the landscape
All across East Africa
Such simple dwellings
With thatched roofs
Have been the homes
Of millions of Africans
For countless millennia
But the nomadic tribes
Roaming the region
Say
Those who live in houses
Cannot go wherever they desire
They are settled down
And not the masters
Of their own life
Hence, the nomads
Refer to houses
As the graves of the living
On the other hand
They believe the free are rich
Live only in tents
And are the children of the wind.