We are on the way to the farm
The enemy ridges are calling us
the creepers seduce our legs
but we move on, up
we climb up the Everest
we cross over the Atlantic
we stand tall on the Eiffel
but we do not stop there
we do not stay there
we do not sleep there
we return home
for
ile la bo sinmi oko
home is where the heart belongs
we are on the way to farm
we are nothing in our hands…save
a lion, a calabash and our banner
we do not take our shoes,
no hats, no plastics, steel
nothing
we are on the way to the farm
but we will return
we are only going to learn
and come back and implement
let not our mothers cry
sisters, lovers, brothers
wipe clean the salt water
we are on our way to the farm
but – no worries
we will return
we are only going to plant our banner on the Eiffel
