Beloved land of my forefathers,
What have I done to you?
Why is the roaring wind,
In strange tone and wrath,
Wailing from the heights
Of the slender trees?
What is causing the anger
Of the soothing waves,
Coming across the asphalt’s ways?
Divine Being, Creator of my universe,
I seek Your face when I look upon de sky;
When I glance at the shadowy mirror of my lost isle;
When my eyes reach out to see,
Onto the far horizon of my forgotten Sea;
Of that Sea of my infant years,
For which I’ve shed so many tears;
When love and play was all in one,
(And I yearn for them once more to come);
When I see all the sad faces;
When I walk downhearted into the foggy morn,
Of my once happy isle.
I see tears running down
The unknown but yet familiar cheeks,
Like the torrent of a waterfall;
Who, You who know it all,
Built that unspoken wall?
But still I am told
That I am not alone,
And that there is hope.
How can this be
When all that surrounds me
Is the sorrow of lost paradise?
And the new unkempt and unwept promises,
Have they, too, been lost
Within the fathomless of our deep blue?
And even the old promises,
That my old ones once cherished?
Yes, they too, have been forgotten.
Lord, You too, promised hope;
You too, promised redemption;
A land of honey and warm bread;
But where are they now?
How can I hold You to that everlasting One?
I do not know…
Because You, too, see my pain,
And the pain of my sisters and brothers.
But are You still there;
Are You still listening to the wailing anger,
Of the fathers and mothers,
Who have forgotten how to cry
To the cries of the lost joyful days?
Lord, are You the author
Of the furrows of the elders,
Filled with watery despair?
The hands, stiff and brittle
Extended as though into nothingness,
Begging to fulfill
The old and new promises made to them
So many new yesteryears ago.
Again, Lord, I do not know…
But, One, I am not finished
Please, give me lots more time
To leave in your hands
My grief and my sorrow.
What, Lord? I did not hear you.
Son, I said onto you,
Stop your wailing and your pain
You brought them upon yourself.
I gave you the gift of thought;
I gave you the gift of talk;
I gave you the gift of walk;
I gave you the gift of wisdom.
Now walk the road you preach;
Walk the road you talk;
Walk the thoughts you thought.
But most of all, son,
Rely on yourself,
Not merely on others.
I gave you all you needed.
Have you forgotten the land
I gave you in early morn?
Yes, you have.
It was for you,
Not all the others.
What you have today
You brought upon yourself.
You wanted more
And you got too many.
Now stand up, within you weakness;
Stand up, within you strength.
Oh! There is not enough to share
Your land is now bare
Of the fruits you once cared.
So, son, I remind you once more:
Do more for yourself;
I did my share.
Stop the bruising of your knees,
Stop the wailing of teary eyes,
Stand up again,
You have the right to be.
Strength is the source of your value
Find that value from within.
You are free;
I am not you freedom;
I’m just the mentor of that freedom.
You are what you make of it.
The choices are yours
Find the answer
I bestowed upon you.
That is the wisdom I shared
When I chose to give you life,
Life for you to live.
Lord, forgive my tenacity,
But I still have one last query:
On what foreign land
Will the shores of my forgotten isle
Find its tranquil soul?
Son, again, it depends on you.
