by Neil Chopra

If your sword swings across me, I stand there amused;
If your bullet has shot me, I see it pass through;
If your hand tries to drown me, I breathe, yes I do;
If you set fire to my body, I stay ever cooled;
If you attempt to distract, I see through the ruse:
I am immune to attack, I laugh at abuse.

If the parchment that bore me dissolves into flames;
If the building that stores it crumbles into remains;
If the city that grounds it is shattered and razed;
If the nation it founded is covered in haze;
If the lady with my beacon falls in the bay:
I am not weakened, I am not dismayed.

If my image is seen by your daughters and sons,
My heart and theirs begin beating as one;
If my blood starts to rise underneath your gun,
My voice thunders in cries until the day is won;
If my infection has spread, only my will can be done;
Let my name be said: I am freedom.

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