The jungle whispers secrets, tangled
Vines of history cling to the hills,
Echoes of a past, a fight for the light,
A struggle rippling through the leaves.

From the crumbling ruins of Freetown,
To the diamonds embedded in the river’s bed,
A cry rises, unbidden,
Stirring the hearts of the dreamers, the weary.

Men and women, shadows in the market square,
Silent warriors with eyes of steel,
Whisper prayers to the distant thunder,
Hands calloused from the tilling, the building.

The sea, vast and unyielding,
Carries tales of freedom across its blue expanse,
Songs of resistance in the rhythm of the waves,
A symphony of hope, relentless.

Children play, unaware,
In the shadow of ancient baobabs,
Their laughter, a melody of tomorrow,
Unfettered by the chains of yesterday.

In the quiet of dawn,
As the first light kisses the land,
A new resolve is born,
A unity of spirit, unbroken, undimmed.

The mountains stand tall, witnesses
To the whispers of revolution,
To the hearts beating as one,
To the indomitable will of a people.

We are Sierra Leone,
Our pulse, a steady drumbeat of courage,
Our voice, a river carving through stone,
Our freedom, a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Together we rise,
Bound by the earth, the sky, the sea,
By the call of our ancestors,
And the promise of the dawn.


© AJ Wappelhorst/Bear Klan Media