The Nation Called Hope

The awful stillness of the fading afternoon Is colored with the
raging storm of our battered thoughts.
Time elapsed, we wished could be forgotten clamours to the
forefront with words to utter.

My people, my people how my mind is consumed with the tears of
our children and the death of our parents.
How long must we suffer in silence and pain the curse of our living
and breathing experience.

They whip us, they starve us, they beat at our pride;
they stamp at the spark of our infinite hope.
They have chained our bodies but not our minds, for we can see
the bright hope on the other side.

We are victory found in each song;
we are freedom dancing in the wind.
We are strength striding through death's shadows.
We are beauty darker than the darkest night.
We are the people of the nation called HOPE.