When I carried you in my arms that Tuesday,You reminded me of the tranquillity of Amokabi River.If peace were literal, you’d be the epitome of its soul.
You reminded me of dawn the first time my eyes met yours;Your little beady eyes sparkled like a gem.Whoever shelters you must treat you like a precious stone,Because you are the torch that beams its light on the dark secrets of inhumane humans.
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You also remind me of the calm beauty of the dew;It gladdens me that your innocence shields you from life’s roaring tempest.Do you remember the feel of my untrained palms,Gently patting you to sleep while dusk draped its curtains?
Your laughter is the melodious music of stringed instruments.It starts on a low tone, unsure at first and then—poof!—it blooms into a high-pitched belly laugh,Potent enough to make an adult forget her worries for some hours.
Oriade, you are the lullaby that lulls to sleep when the burdens of life become life-threatening.You are like the unruffled sway of tree branches,Slowly moving to the rhythm of the wind.You bring peace because you are peaceful.
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Did you feel a rush of warmth from the concerns raised about your future when the world heard your story?Did you see the eyes that glanced at you, not in pity, but in empathyBecause no child deserves to be cut away from its mother’s breasts?
Oriade,As your name implies, your head is a crown.No wonder it saved you from the home of evil arrows.Remember this as you blossom into a beautiful, brilliant woman:You are the radiance of the morning sun,And no darkness can dim your twinkling star.
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