Becoming

The room is still after the thunder, No banners left to wave. Only choices in the silence, Only promises we make. There is no map beneath our footsteps, No hand to draw the line. What we leave upon the earth now, Will be measured by our lives. Not by the fear we overcame, Not by the names we cast aside, But by the way we meet each other, When no one tells us why. Who are we becoming When no enemy remains? Who are we becoming When the power bears our name? We are becoming, What tomorrow will call home! Let the child inherit questions, And the courage to ask why. Let the stranger speak their conscience, With no reason to disguise. Let each hand be known by making, Let each voice be freely heard. Let no throne decide the measure, Of a life it did not earn. We do not owe the past our future, We do not owe the wound our name. What begins in open hands now, Must be chosen every day. Who are we becoming When no enemy remains? Who are we becoming When the power bears our name? We are becoming, What tomorrow will call home! No future keeps itself from falling, No compass walks the road. Every promise needs a keeper, Every freedom bears a load. When easy answers fill the silence, And certainty draws near, May we leave the door between us, Open wider than our fear! Who are we becoming Now the enemy is gone? Who are we becoming When the power is our own? May the hands that broke the old world Never build its walls again. We are becoming, What tomorrow will call home! We are becoming, What tomorrow will call home!