A new day will come, when from ash,
The glory of the golden feathers,
Sprayed in red and brown and ash
Shall rise. And in those weathers,
A flamboyant flame so hopeful bright
Announcing, like the Star of old:
“There shall pass some event of delight!”
Shall spark and spread like a manifold,
Piecing together the splendour to be born:
Bones and blood, cloak and claws;
Picking carefully each colour for scorn
On other creatures (even man) victim to death’s jaws.
Yellow more than yellow, red beyond red!
Gold in every nook, look at how rare
It sparkles in the sunlight royally shed
On the Phoenix, in the splendour of December.
(c) Nyonglema Pisoh
waghni 