By Silmi Abdullah

They clip her wings, and tie her feet,
and vow she cannot fly,
before the bars of grave deceit
they stand to watch her cry.

They hypnotize his simple mind,
with dreams of liberty,
and so his home he leaves behind,
to journey ‘cross the sea.

They cuff his wrist and chain his legs
with slavery’s shackles grand,
how desperately for air he begs,
as he sweeps the stranger’s land.

Thread by thread, she weaves a dream
with hues of red and gold,
But every strike, each bruise and scream,
she vows to keep untold.

He wears a pigment dark in shade
and walks in pride and glee,
there come the men in uniform,
to stop the crime of audacity.

His name is “strange” with a “savage” vibe
Her headscarf rather odd,
Must  tame these folks of “distant tribes”
Grab those drugs and rods!

They weep, they wail, loud are the sounds,
Her cries, his sighs echo all around.
But somewhere in the atmosphere,
I hear a whisper crystal clear,
that gives her strength to tear in rage
the rope in her feet and the bars of her cage.
It commands his broom be thrown away
to claim his pride and fly away
to his village by the riverside
where his mother waits with tired eyes
The whisper tells her not to weep
and rise above her silence deep
and show the world her fractured heart
that does not fear to mend and start
to beat anew with pride and love.
the whisper tells them, Rise Above!
Go fight the thieves that steal your name,
your skin, yourself, in this power game.
Do not silence me, the whisper says
for my name is Hope, and I am here to stay.