He is a whilrwind
Crisscrossing the nation
And lives
Like a forest whose tentacles
& shades of green
Dry the heat on our scorched faces
From east to west

Whose branches
Whispering to generous air
From north to south
In benevolent breeze
Wipe the toxic blood on our patched apparels

And like a prophecy foretold
And dream come alive
This rock has become a foundation
On which a new nation is birthed
On a platter draped in green & white