Words by: Mandy Moe Pwint Tu

Her you will find, if only you seek,
Secrets she’ll whisper, though fain would she speak,
Of majesty and magic in golden ages past
This land of forgotten glory, which remembers last.

She will show you brick-sand, she will show you dust,
She will paint you pictures of kings who succumbed to lust –
She will reveal her princesses, her great and scornful queens,
And courage-cloaked princes who rode the sunny sheens.

She will hand you mystery when the sun does rise and set,
She will give you experiences you will not soon forget;
She will enchant thee in verses, entice thee in dance,
She will remain strong in every remembrance.

You will feel her sorrows, you will feel her pain,
But you will witness how steadily she does brave the rain;
You will see her scars, you will know her bruises,
But you will find a firm spirit that never refuses.

You will watch her weep, you will hear her cries,
You will see her emerge from a mire of lies,
You will find a fire undead by ice
Like a goodly virtue unstained by vice.

She has a different beauty, she keeps a stranger glory,
She upholds her knotted duty, she tells a sadder story;
She stores in faith her every memory,
Though her sons and daughters forsake her company.

She lived in the sun, she reigned in shadows,
She watched the world from a shaded window,
From dark she emerged, into dark returned;
Never from history did her children learn.

Now she gleams in moonlight, not quite in sunshine,
Clouds still hover: she awaits her time,
No foreign hand again will snatch her,
Myanmar will stand, and none can match her.

One thought on “Myanmar

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