I was raised where the hills roll like stories yet to be written,

where cattle do not just graze, but guide a boy’s footsteps toward discipline,

and the wind carries more wisdom than a thousand classrooms.

In those open fields, I learned that priority was not an abstract word,

But the order of things needed to survive

fetching water before sunrise, gathering firewood before storms,

silencing questions until the work was done.

Yet, as I followed the herd through grassland and time,

I began to wonder if there was more to life than routine in dust,

If perhaps the horizon I stared at was not the end,

but the beginning of something bold.

School cracked open that sky.

Books whispered new names for my old reality

inequality, justice, sustainability

and slowly, my priorities shifted from doing what was necessary

to imagining what was possible.

No longer herding cattle, I now herd ideas and lead voices,

guiding others through systems as complex as the veld once seemed,

drawing strength not from distance,

but from the depth of where I began.

I have not forgotten the boy who walked barefoot through silence,

For he taught me that authentic leadership is not loud

It is rooted, patient, and painfully aware

of what happens when people are not seen as a priority.

So, I lead not to rise above,

but to lift others with me,

carrying the lessons of open land

into the closed rooms of power.

Poem Description:

This evocative poem traces the personal journey of a rural youth who once herded cattle under open skies and now leads change in his community. Through rich metaphor and reflective storytelling, it explores how lived experience, tradition, and education shaped a purposeful redefinition of identity, responsibility, and leadership.

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