Many Trees, Many Hearts forming Agriculture

Even when hope was locked in slumber, When no eyes could bear the sight of miseryWhen flames of conflict celebrated stolen victoryWhen no foot walked on the paths of memory, When the brave hearts coasted to a halt, A tree still grew, a tree grew in Kigali. A tree in Butare, a tree scribbling stories This tree, bending under the weight of memory, Still grins when the sun rises, when it hears Songs of happiness and voices that weave new dreams. This tree grows, it grows in Butare.A tree in Gitarama, sways in the wind, Whistles to the dove who builds a nestWith a hundred twigs—here life buds,Blooms and grows feathers of hope;Once ready, the young dovesWill carry a million leaves above the mountains And across the plains; a million little leaves, The scrolls of a new day of unity and forgiveness. A tree grows, a tree grows in Gitarama.A tree in Kibuye, a tree with a hundred memoriesA tree abundant with new fruits, ripening;Fruits to feed more than a million mouthsFruits to heal the wounds of historyFruits to fill stomachs of anticipation,Because history, once mystery, if now a fig tree.A tree grows, a tree grows in Kibuye.A tree grows in FORA—You are its branchesWhose core of hope defies Time’s hundred pneumatic drills.A tree grows, a tree grows in FORAA tree whose leaves are the weight of memory. Ends