We were driven off the edges of our lands, forced to enclave ourselves in this abyss
they called our new land, others territory.
And so we built our homes in the globes of sand and clay, and material only our people
knew to make, carved in our ancestral DNA and minds hidden from those who was just gone.
They would never know what makes our spheres, homes, bind, move, and float like a bubble,
sturdy like our hearts and made with the same mold as we are.
We stay here, building our resistance, preparing for a battle they will never be ready for.
The disturbing confidence of ignorance will be their downfall, but in the meantime, we
lay here in rest and peace to liberate ourselves above the scar we were forced upon.
One day we will rise, with our homes, a fortress, our minds, indigenous, and our spirits and
ancestors with us the day we fight.
We will be feared by our oppressors, because they live in squares, and we are well rounded
of mind like spheres, with spheres in our hands as we dance.