rain, fire, and smoldering ashes...
truth demands the air it breathes.
every step a choice,
nothing to go back to...
we stand on the brink,
a people without a land.
you and i no different,
even the taste much the same.
the leaves on the tree have fallen.
paying the cost of the lash,
the wheels mired in mud.
even our prayers cant lie anymore...
America, America,
do you recognize your face?
your children weep,
your father's graves long lost.
only the back, the hands,
and the hearts remain...
is it really too late to believe?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem