Freedom Smells Like Rain After Dust
The night got no mercy,
but I keep singing anyway.
They say freedom came,
but it walks barefoot,
bleeding on the glass of old promises
Still I smell rain-
you know that smell,comrade-
the one that comes after the dust
and says,''Not all is lost''
My baby hums freedom like a hymn,
her voice cracked like dry land waiting for mercy
We done marched,we done prayed,
and lord,we done been betrayed-
but the blues keep the bones alive.
I say,
Freedom smells like rain after dust-
a bitter-sweet perfume of survival.
And even if it never pours again,
we'll dance like thunder
On the edge of the drought
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