Footsteps
We live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger
Where they sound softly on the sands of our shores
Traversing across seas to find a land and a home
Once settled, they began to build a culture
A civilization that grew with each family
Filled with dance, stories, and sharp ships
They crossed the seas to trade with other lands, other homes.
Then greed began to grow in lands from the North
Who needed more wealth, more workers, more space
They came with their guns and their cannons
To destroy or to educate minds in their own images
Slowly withering civilzations rooted in the earth
Olive trees, the children of the land,
shook their leaves in fear
As bulldozers approached
Trying to erase an identity that was
Thousands of years
Old.
But what they failed to understand is that
We live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger
And their stories and cautionary tales
Retold from one generation to the next
Could not be erased
Not with guns, planes or bulldozers
Stories remain in the hearts of so many now
Poured into everything we do
To honor the land where the footprints linger
And to protect other lands hidden under shadows of the North.