Freedom's Hand

Freedom’s Hand

This place once lived in a far off land.  Her screams of agony as her death approached; blinded by our own faults as what I love lay dieing.  She fought the English over taxes.  Battled we the French and the Red man over land.  Brother against brother locked in war’s embrace, that no man should own another in this great land.

As the centuries pass she stood, silent without a sword.  Just a light given freely to all those sought what the forefathers gave.  In this land of liberty none judged by whom was thy father.  For in this land thy actions spoke of what and who was the man standing free.

Still come they to chase their dreams, to this place where one could have his say.  Right or wrong even if it offended, this liberty be part of her great light given.  And if your ear be offended then listen not to the words spoken; but admire and protect that which be the freedom. 

Still no promise of wealth or fame given; just the right to seek that which be thy wish.  To worship as one without fear. A wife and family safe from that which would say not here.  Freedom was the promise, safe from prying eyes.  Now come these that seek to destroy that which I love.  But here I stand to stop her death; even if my blood be spilled the cause was just.  And her light shall burn ever brighter; and in this light you will see the gleaming sword of freedom’s hand.   

© 2009 2010 Words the Windows to the Soul