The Generous Storm Poem by Yiro Abari High

We drum
To it, we wriggle and dance
It's said, we are the best,
That we are the greatest

The sun is blistering,
There is a cloud of brown
And springs of brine
The memory never fades

And then comes the tide
And the ovation dies
The drums are lost in the storm
The dance loses its luminous form

We turn to the distance
To its songs, rhythm and dance
But scruples weigh us down
From memories that refuse to grind

Some blame the blistering sun
In its fear, everyone runs
Some blame the clouds of brown
In it pride is laid to rest

There's the blindness of the eyes
Or the blindness of the heart
Everyone is blind to see
That though there's a storm, there're no ruins

In the storm, we can drum
And in it, we can dance
For the storm that came
Only reinforces the rhythm