I mourn the scent of harvest gone
O’er fields now burning
Their hate razed my land
Seized hope from my hand
Yet I won’t die
My veins are the rivers that flow
Longer than Time shall know
To no tyrant will I bow
Victory shall end my sorrow
I won’t die
My heart throbs with the thunder
That sings after lightning’s glow
While wait I for the rainbow
I won’t die
I thrive like the grass
That’s as old as the world
Or like the coveted gold
That in fire finds its mold
I won’t die
I breathe the winds of struggle
In this land of the free and bold
To my breast is pressed a sword
To defend an Eden foretold
I won’t die
I am yet to be born
And my story must be told
My story must be told
Redmoon
22 December 2023
Redmoon of Bukidnon likes to describe himself as a trying hard poet.
