Dust and Dreams


Handcarts,
Splintered
Like the dry weeds, dust
And the dreams of hope …
Still trusting in the
Promise
Of free land
And love of God.
Each sun-scorched step
You trod,
Each tear,
And blood of human soul
You lost
Has blessed the world
And cost you
Nothing less
Than the building
Of your souls
And cities,
Great Fathers of the West,
Who founded more,
Far more than land.
We stand up tall
And free.
What greater gift?
Or
Memorial
To thee.