When a solitary tree bears witness to the tightening of the noose,
And the final grip of one man’s fading breath.
It is a strange fruit this centuries old tree bears,
As Billie Holiday sings the blues throughout a moonless night,
When the silhouette of cloaked riders near and break the silence of a peaceful night.
Grab hold of your innocence as the cries of women and children,
Echo throughout the valley and blood breaks free from the skin and parched lips of another,
As this society stakes claim to what they never possessed.
It is during the harvest of the season,
When one man rises as the product of a decade’s long struggle,
To take the reins of a nation and,
Fulfill the dream of one man.
CDF 2009
