HUMMING HYMNS OF SORROW

Treacherous trodding has been this rough rugged road;
The way over which we’ve come has not been kind.
Our hopes and spirits have been tested and so has every mind;
Oh but we've never buckled under the burden of the heavy load.
Over the weary way, with blood and tears, we strode;
Guided by an audacious faith and a spirit holy and sublime,
We survived the trials, tribulations and the uncertainties of the time;
Till at last, the home of the brave and the land of the free was our abode.
 
But now our children are being profiled and shot down in the street;
their fathers fighting wars abroad for other children’s justice and liberty;
And grandmothers sit in their rocking chairs humming hymns of sorrow.
Today another mother will stand over a dead child and wearily weep;
For when all is said, the child died dreadfully due to his own criminality.
Oh how long will our communities be as cells of prisoners living on death's row?