Oh! I gasp for breath As I pen this down
It is sixty two full years my people
The place we call home is mature
Her maturity shows in her eyes
She is quiet, as she plans her future
She gazes at the sky with long a thought
Why is she this way a generation born too close would ask,
Why is she too gentle, she is not doing anything,
She is loosing her children, those she fed from the scratch, they are leaving
She is loosing them to the west,
Why is she too quiet.
If you have seen a woman who lost a child before
She doesn't speak, but she bleeds inside, but strong on the outside
Her creator made her that way to chest every darts from the past and the future.
My people, our mother counts on us to revive our home
She waits patiently with silent prayers to her creator.
She asks that nobody forgets her exploits
The way she fought all distractions in the past and moved from strength to strength
She is aware that you have to ability to build you home
She waits patiently.
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