To Our Mother Island

When invaders crossed our sacred shore,

Their guns and greed brought something more—

The theft of names our people bore,

And brothers buried on our floor.

Our mother island wept that day,

As oceans watched them have their way.

Yet through five centuries of chains,

Our stories coursed through ancient veins,

Through grinding wheels and iron’s hold,

Through every sacred story sold.

Our legends, deeper than their guns,

In blood and bone forever runs.

When ancient flames touched evening sky,

We heard our ancestors’ cry—

Through sacred chants and dances bold,

Through rhythms that can’t grow old,

Our culture, rooted deep as time,

Survived their every paradigm.

For what they tried to steal away

Still beats within our hearts today,

In every step upon this sand,

In every word across this land.

Our mother island stands as throne

Where respect must now be shown.

So when you speak our people’s name,

Or walk the shores from where we came,

Remember those who stood before,

Who guarded every sacred shore—

For they were given no respect,

But we now rise to resurrect

We dance our truth in sacred space,

Our spirits strong, our hearts enlaced

With those who bled upon this ground,

Their wisdom flowing without sound.

For in our veins their power flows,

And through our voices, their truth grows.

Remember this on mother’s sand,

You’ll treat with reverence this land,

For though our ancestors knew pain,

Their strength in us does still remain.

When you step here, you’ll honor those

Whose sacred blood through history flows.