I woke up with a sadness that is not entirely mine.

Nothing but tears
Nothing but tears
For years, for lives  I’ve never known
Something that cannot be said

That I can only feel
As real as waves on sand<
As real as what whispers to me
Of the small bits of earth and sky I am.

Nothing but songs,
Nothing but songs
And the long wail
That just reaches home.

Colors fade, races blur,
We all want our children safe,
To keep alive what we always were.

All around the world, the eyes
And hands, of every people ever been —
They hold their children in their arms
And look around at what is left to them.

Nothing but shades of blue and green
Of brown and red and grey
Tearing souls from ancestral lands,
It still goes on today.

Nothing left but stories,
Nothing left but songs
And the few who can share where we come from
And to what place we might belong.

Why carry fear and hate inside
Toward the generations of the past?
Are there ways to heal those kinds of wounds?
Build and love and not destroy
To make sense of us at last.

Stop the world, and just reach out,
Can we not forgive?
I think, before we can be reconciled,
We must sing all the songs,

Remember how our world was made,
For each story has some truth
We all have the right to live
To pass these things on to our youth.

Differences are beautiful
And differences aside
We are at once just who we are
We can wipe away the others’ tears
The ones we each have cried.

Reflected in the wild sea,
Reflected in the desert sands,
We meet each other
Eye to eye,

And having found ourselves there,
Mirrored back to us,
Perhaps we'll love,
Or at least understand.</

We will sing all our songs,
We will cry all our tears,
And there will be strength to move on
Free the world of control and fear
And start to trust each other here.

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4 thoughts on “I woke up with a sadness that is not entirely mine.

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