this land is our land, this land is stolen land

Home is the intersection

of man and god -- 

the existing and the created -- 

the past and the future.

 

It's the air we breathe

and whats in it.

 

It's the blood in our veins

and the veins of our children

as they dance upon

their hills of green(er) grass.

 

Whose home is this they ask, 

dreaming of an untold tale

where the story of this land

is finally heard by the children

who cared for it

instead of the children of those

who bought it

with their fire

and their brimstone

and called it home.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
My community
My country

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741