For all of our languages we cant communicate, For all of our native tongues were all natives her, Sons of their Fathers dream with the same dream, The sound of forbidden words becomes a scream, Voices of anger, Victims of history, Plundered an set aside, grown fat on swallowed pride. With promises of paradise and gifts of beads and knives Missionaries and pioneers are soldiers in disguise Saviours and Conquerers, they make us wait, The fishers of men they wave their truth like bait With the touch of a strangers hand innocence turns to shame, The spirit that dwelt within now sleeps out in the rain For all of our languages we cant communicate, For all of our native tongues, were all natives here, The scars of the past are slow to disappear, The cries of the dead are always in our ears, Only the very safe can talk about wrong and right, Of those who were forced to choose, there are some who choose tofight. For all of our languages we cant communicate
Posted on: Tue, 09 Dec 2014 15:00:39 +0000
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