in the cool summer African night.
I stop and look up;
I turn my face to Ethiopia.
Her scent floats around me,
the smell of her water,
of the rain pipes and mud.
The smell of earth-scented metal,
or metal-scented earth;
and moss, and moist rock, and berbere.

Tonight, I was visited by Ethiopia.
Sound follows scent,
and sight follows sound.
Wet green like a rain forest -
rain slapping leaves, then hyenas singing;
ragged expanses with tough, tangled shrubs.
How I love Ethiopia,
her broken, bared soul -
her quiet, sound-filled nights
and aching, thirsty days.

Tonight, I smell Ethiopia.
People, worn and care-worn,
lined faces, shining, sun-loved skin.
Holy, sacred, caressed by God -
their Father, who adores them.
Silver flash and ebony flame -
His wooden Cross made intricate,
a reflection of His name.

Tonight, I have seen Ethiopia.
May she find rest in Peace,
a home in Him,
a place to rest her aching feet.
Salvation is hers - she claims it.
A desert your soul will be no more;
and death shall hold you no longer.