The Stolen Hills

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Faces carved in solemn grace,
Distinguished faces etched with pride.
Honor strewn across each face,
Can’t conceal the guilt They hide.

Men of Old with faces white
Cast shadows on the hills They “own”-
On ancient hills as black as night.
It’s darker still among Their stones.

A broken vow and cryptic lies,
A selfish promise of Their gold,
The clever faces’ dim disguise
Robbed a nation of their home.

They stole the very Earth the land-
One thing Their gold could not replace.
And still today each grain of sand
Mourns the presence of each face.





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