The Price of Freedom

My brother never came home last night, I waited all night long.
As daybreak came and went, I knew something was wrong.
Men and women were called to look: a search was on the way.
My brother never came home last night, will they bring him back today.

I cannot sit and idly watch and hear my mother cry,
I cannot wait for news to come and watch the day fade by.
Bare footed I run into the fields, heading for the trees,
A secret place we use to go, my brother, sister and me.

Halted on my journey, my feet afraid to tread,
My eyes could scarcely believe the sight I saw which lay ahead.
My heart was filled with horror; my voice had gone astray,
I saw the price of freedom, I knew then how we’d pay.

Slowly I crept forward willing this not to be,
The brother who I loved so much hanging from the tree.
The swaying body turned, twisting on the rope,
I recognised my brother; I knew there was no hope.

They came and cut him down; the women began to wail,
I held his body in my arms once strong but now so frail.
We carried him to my mother and placed him on her floor,
She screeched and fell upon her knees beside the son she bore.

My mother doesn’t speak no more; she has no words to say,
She spoke last at my brothers grave then gave her words away.
Freedom isn’t free at all; there is a price to pay,
Freedom isn’t free at all, I found out on that day.