Wednesday, August 23, 2017
Singing Ourselves to Freedom
I had a dream a while back, and
In the dream I was in Africa,
And I was helping refugees escape, after
Years of terrifying war and suffering.
As we loaded the last truck full to the brim
With hot, thirsty, exhausted, war-torn beings,
All huddled together with barely room to breathe,
I wondered how they would survive the trip,
Packed in, as they were,
Like sardines in the 100+ degree heat.
As I climbed up to sit on the tailgate
And motioned the driver to begin the journey,
The truck began to move slowly down the road.
And as it did,
I heard one voice,
That quickly grew into a chorus,
An almost unearthly sound
As they began to sing together
A Song of Thanksgiving
In anticipation
Of the freedom that awaited them,
At some unknown time,
In some unknown place,
On the other end of this journey.
I believe it was Tagore who said
Faith
Is the bird…
That sings
While the dawn
Is still dark.
Come my friends,
Let us sing!!
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