Limburg, Land Of Our Fathers Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

Limburg, where the rivers carve their
stories into ancient stone,
where the hills rise gently, holding the past in quiet embra.
Fields of golden grain sway in the
whispers of the wind,
and the voices of our fathers in the shade of the orchards.

The earth here remembers-
the tread of weary feet, the laughter
of harvest songs,
the weight of history carried in silent chapels,
in cobbled streets worn smooth by time.

Bells ring out across the valleys,
not calling to war, but to home,
to the warmth of heart and heart,
to the roots that bind us to this place.

Limburg, you are more than soil and stone,
more than borders drawn and
redrawn by hands unseen.
You are memory and belonging,
you are the breath of those who came before,
and the hope of those yet to come.