"የዳሽኔ ፍቅር (Love of Dashne)"

Beneath the towering peak of Dashne, where the winds weave secrets through the highland grass, Ethiopian wolves call to the rising sun. Their scarlet coats shimmer in the dawn’s embrace, like embers of a love ignited in the heart of the mountains. It was here, in the breath of the highlands, that I first found you—a flame among the frost, a melody carried by the morning breeze.

Your laughter, soft as the whisper of shemma threads, wraps around my soul like a woven tapestry of dawn. The scent of buna, thick with cardamom and frankincense, lingers in the air between us, carrying the warmth of our unspoken promises. The delicate curls of steam rise, mirroring the gentle rhythm of your breath as we sit beneath the acacia tree, where elders have told stories for centuries. I watch you pour the dark liquid with hands that speak of lineage and love, steady as the rivers that nourish our land. The clink of ceramic against wood is the drumbeat of our quiet moments together, a symphony of devotion written in the language of the everyday.

I take your hand, ink-stained from the letters you write, from the verses you whisper beneath your breath when you think no one listens. Ewedishalehu—the word you etched into the margins of an old book, a vow not bound by paper but by the breath between syllables. In those letters, our love blooms like Meskel’s golden demera pyres, flames licking the sky as if yearning to touch the heavens, as if love itself could be made of fire and faith.

Time moves like the shoulder of an elder swaying in the rhythm of eskista, fluid and unbreakable. Like the dancers who let the music pull them into the past and future at once, we move together, bound not by flesh but by the echoes of something ancient. The mountains have watched us dance beneath their silent gaze, their shadows stretching long like the years we have yet to see. In their silence, they whisper truths only lovers understand: that love is neither fleeting nor bound by the fragile thread of a single lifetime. It is a story rewritten in every generation, retold in every embrace.

When Timkat’s rivers spill into the streets, we join the throngs of believers, our hands touching briefly in the cold water. The baptism of a new year washes over us, our fingers brushing as if remembering all they have held before—your hand in mine, my palm against your cheek, the weight of love cradled between them. Even as the echoes of drums and hymns fill the sky, I know our love needs no ceremony to be sanctified. It was written long before the first drop of rain kissed the soil, before the first wolf howled to the moon.

The wolves of Dashne stand as sentinels, their amber eyes witnessing what time cannot erase. They, too, know what it is to love with constancy, to mate for life, to carve devotion into the landscape like the rivers etch valleys into the earth. In their presence, I see the reflection of us—wild and enduring, fierce yet tender. The volcanic sands beneath their paws are the same that mark our footprints, each step a testament to the road we have walked together. We are bound to this land as we are bound to each other, tethered by more than mere chance—by blood, by soil, by the rhythm of a thousand heartbeats echoing through the generations.

Love is not the grand gesture, the fleeting rush of passion. It is the kolo spun from Ethiopia’s loom, a humble yet enduring staple, the taste of home carried in the palm of your hand. It is the scent of injera rising from the fire, the touch of cotton worn thin by years of wear, the lull of a lullaby sung beneath a thatched roof. It is the echo of ancestors in the hum of a work song, the warmth of a mother’s hands smoothing a child’s brow. It is you, and me, and all the quiet moments in between, woven into something greater than the sum of its parts.

Love is also the patience of the farmer tilling the soil, the quiet prayers murmured before dawn, the whispered names of ancestors carried on the wind. It is found in the deep green terraces of our homeland, where each blade of grass bends in unison with the rhythm of time. It is the promise of the first rain on parched earth, the golden light that dances upon the rooftops of Lalibela’s churches at dusk, the way the sky embraces the mountains like an old friend. It is a love that does not yield to time or distance but grows stronger with each season, rooted like the sycamore that has stood for centuries, drinking from the same well of history and hope.

And when the night falls over Dashne, when the stars emerge like stories waiting to be told, I will trace the constellations with your name upon my lips. For love, like the wolf who mates for life, is eternal, cradled in the cerulean palm of the sky, whispered by the winds, and guarded by the mountains that have seen it all before. It is the ink in every letter we write, the rhythm in every song we sing, the breath in every prayer we utter. It is the land beneath our feet, the sky above our heads, the pulse in our veins. It is the fire of our ancestors, carried forward in the flicker of our hearts.

Should time scatter our footprints, let the wolves of Dashne remember. Let the rivers of Timkat carry our story. Let the mountains stand witness, and the stars inscribe our names into the firmament. For love, true love, is neither lost nor forgotten—it is lived, over and over, in every sunrise, in every whispered vow, in every hand held tight against the winds of time.

Clue of Content (Artist’s Note): This poem intertwines Ethiopia’s rich natural and cultural heritage with the theme of enduring love. It draws inspiration from the Ethiopian wolf—a symbol of lifelong devotion—along with traditions that root love in the everyday moments of life.

Buna: The Ethiopian coffee ceremony, a cherished ritual of connection and hospitality.

Shemma: Traditional handwoven fabric, signifying warmth, unity, and cultural identity.

Eskista: A dance that mirrors love’s rhythm, blending past and present into a shared movement.

Timkat & Meskel: Religious festivals representing renewal, faith, and the flame of devotion.

Dashne Mountain & Ethiopian Wolves: Guardians of love’s endurance, symbols of loyalty and the beauty of Ethiopia’s untamed landscapes.

May love, like the mountains, stand the test of time.