On the Eve of Freedom

At the tall gilded gates

We might raucously dance

Perhaps weep

And kneel in the deep ruts of anguish

The journey thus far

A tale to bitterly throw away.

Egregiously we’ve lost track

Adored doleful travails

The heat of withering injustice

Has cracked our backs

Our lips but sere.

At those wondrous gates 

We will swoon in joy

When the republic is born anew

And democracy be our tall beacon

Lighting up our paths into the future

As we sing and dance

Home at last!

Our Own Saviours

At the shore we perch

Pusillanimity cast away from our

Healthy breasts, we are pregnant

With hopes and incessant faith.

The years have been torturous

Our backs all but broken

Plundered to please alien faces

We’ve built up lands afar

And gilded palaces of our tormentors.

The feelings encompassing about us

A freshness so exhilarating

A warmness very contagious

Elates our thin personages.

Albeit all the trouble

We’re glad to be home

Happy to be at tranquility’s door

Knowledgeable in incontrovertible truths that

We are our own saviours!