Stone of Culture

Voices grow hoarse 

Seeking for change

There’s progress

And then there’s tradition

Written in the early mud banks 

Where humans first slithered out of the sea

Caked dry and cracked 

Baked under years of sun 

Petrified to stone

Not you nor I

Could chisel change

Even if it says 

I’ll end up like my mother 

Even if it says 

My destiny is by another

So these words 

Replace my lost voice:

Please please please

I beg you 

Take me to the sea

Leave my children free

The stone of culture

Will be broken by me

Let that be my legacy.