I am a land
whose children
are stolen from the
bosom of the innocence,
yet their laughter bellows
down my hillsides like
honey from a hollowed hive.
Far too many years
my soil has winced,
crimsoned by the sorrowful blood
of the righteous.
Yet my trees still sing
the enchanting melodies of hope.
My winds carry forth the
prayers of yearning from
ravenous stomachs
restlessly churning.
Though tears stain my parched landscape,
I’ll quench thy thirst with Faith.
Calloused feet tread upon
my tender wilderness.
Yet onward march they,
laying their dreams of serenity
against the merry mountainside.
Mines may fracture my ribs,
but my back remains upright.
Climb upon my optimism.
I will carry thee through
the coldest nights.
In a humble abode
of Earth and Stone,
the voices of the Voiceless
rise in majesty
opening their homes
to offer the pilgrim whatever they can.
Hospitality
immeasurable
like grains of sand.
I am a land whose
people have endured
tragedy so deep,
yet with love and smiles
they mesmerize the visitor they greet.
Though my head
is bruised, it is held high.
Though my hands are trembling,
they reach upward to wipe your eyes.
I am a land of ancient beauty
whose ageless radiance
stirs the spirit of many a seeker.
I am the land that caresses
your hand, uniting humanity
in solidarity.
From my womb, tomorrow is born.
Hearts are mended, no longer torn.
Bear witness to the Love that reigns in thee.
I am a whisper on sacred moonlight.
We are of the same Earth
divided merely by sea.