The awakening
309 Words
At last, the youngest brother stood before her door,
Through trials endured, through pain, and more.
His hands held wisdom, his heart held light,
To end the long, oppressive night.
The eldest brother bowed in silent prayer,
The middle brother breathed the crisp, clean air.
For all their journeys, the battles, the strife,
Led to this moment, the rebirth of life.
He touched her hand, so pale and still,
And whispered, “Rise with will.”
The slumber that had lasted for decades long
Shattered at last with a resolute song.
Her eyes opened to the rising sun,
A people’s story anew begun.
The beauty smiled, a tear on her cheek,
For in her slumber, strength she did seek.
The velds and plains awoke with her gaze,
Fields turned golden in morning’s haze.
The rivers sang louder, the winds danced free,
A nation reborn in identity.
The brothers stood, their mission complete,
Every hardship, every defeat,
Had led to this moment of radiant grace,
A people restored to their rightful place.
Through wars and loss, through exile and fear,
They preserved what was precious, year by year.
Culture and language, faith and song,
A heritage cherished, enduring, and strong.
And though the world had shifted and changed,
The beauty’s eyes reflected a range
Of stories untold, of voices rejoined,
Of histories honored, of futures coined.
The eldest brother lifted the banner high,
The middle brother gazed at the sky.
The youngest brother, with a tearful grin,
Knew the journey of the heart would always begin.
For awakening is not a single day,
Nor a simple act to sweep decay.
It is patience, courage, and steadfast will,
A legacy built, a promise fulfilled.
And thus she rose, not just as one,
But as a people, a rising sun.
The beauty awakened, the brothers knew,
That Afrikaner spirit would always renew.
- Writer
