There was once a land filled with promises, a land filled with meaningful hearts. There was once a land where hope saw the beauty of the black night.
In loneliness we believed in friends.
Then they came, they took what was ours.
They stole our children, they stole our land, they stole our culture, they stole our identity.
There is now a land filled with broken promises, a land filled with empty hearts. There’s a land where hope is shattered and unheard of.
In darkness we believed in light.
As the blackness comes we watch ourselves being erased. But we conquer the season of darkness by opening a door to our own light. In this place so open to the skies, resting in the cricket’s lullaby, we are artists of dreams, we are artists of hope.
In sorrow we believe in joy.
In pain we believe in empathy.
In anger we believe in perspective.
In differences we believe in love.
For the future will be an auspicious ending that will soon heal the hearts of the generations to come.
Photo by Mladen Borisov on Unsplash.com
