Our Motherland
I run for the train, you, our motherland.
Give me thirty push-ups here, where you comb
Through our soil, where the seeds of your sweat stand.
On this land you decide to call your home.
As you pledge honor to your country, whose
Camouflage paint streaks blood-drops down your face.
I know to trust you don’t need me for every bruise,
And hope that this is not our last embrace.
Don’t remind me of the hills you had to
Aim your gun at, not of the stars we both
see. Tell me you’re on your way, that your new
clothes remain clean, that you don’t miss your oath.
But you sing of your country constantly,
Resting on your land, standing solemnly.
Radhi is a Year 4 Literary Arts student. She wrote this poem when she was in Year 3.