Now silent is the voice
That once spoke from the past

It  spoke of horrors and fears and disbelief
About the life taken from it. Stolen by the thief

It spoke of strength and passion and pride
In a once prominent language, that long since has died

It spoke of courage and faith and hope
While it hung from a tree tied by a rope

It spoke of power through knowledge and learning
Despite the clan with their crosses burning

It spoke of humanity offering kindness and love
As it escaped underground with a railroad above

It spoke of God and forgiveness and peace
Even though the destruction of churches seemed unlikely to cease

It spoke of family and togetherness and caring
Regardless of the pain of separation it was bearing

It spoke of heritage and acceptance and tradition
Defying the injustice of it's present condition

It spoke of marches and organizations and leaders
So intensely such that it made us all believers

It spoke from a continent of kings to a continent of slaves
It spoke for the living and the dead from beyond their graves

Now silent is that voice, that once spoke of hope
We left it tied to a tree, hung by a rope