Baptized by bullets and waiting to heal

Spirits of fire and souls forged from steel

Memories of old days ruled by the gun

A land washed in blood now dried by the sun

Our ancestors’ bodies now one with the ground

The cries of sweet infants a magical sound

No more secrets in shadows led by our fears

We walk in the light washed clean by our tears

Connected by horror, united in joy

The future moves on through each girl and boy

You are me, and we are you

Reminders of all that is true

The name of your tribe I do not care.

Liberian is the title of which I’m aware

Men, women, children all living by grace

Privileged and honored to be in this place


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