Birth of Freedom: July 4, 1776

Birth of Freedom: July 4, 1776
Oh, say can you see—
old glory,
still waving.

Still waving.

Not because the wind is gentle,
but because generations have held her up—
with trembling hands,
with tired backs,
with broken hearts,
and with impossible hope.
Two hundred and fifty years young.

Two hundred and fifty.

Born in the cry for liberty,
tested by cannon fire,
carried through a civil war that split brother from brother,
through Jim Crow’s shadow,
through civil rights marches where feet bled—
but voices did not break.

Through depression.
Through world wars.
Through every season that tried to bend her back
and make her forget her name.
And still—
the Constitution holds.

Still holds.

Worn at the edges,
argued over,
fought for,
amended by courage,
and kept alive by people who refused—
refused—
to surrender the idea
that freedom belongs to everyone.
Still—
the Union stands.

Still stands.

Not untouched.
Not unshaken.
Not unscarred.

But standing like a family after grief:
bruised,
stubborn,
weeping,
and still reaching—
still reaching—
for one another.
Still—
we the people.

Somehow.
Some way.

Against every silence,
against every chain,
against every closed door,
against every grave marked and unmarked,
we keep freedom breathing.

Breathing like a prayer.
Breathing like a promise.
Breathing from one generation
to the next.
Not perfect.
Not finished.
Not clean of scars.

But alive.

Alive in the hands of those who build.
Alive in the hands of those who vote.
Alive in the hands of those who protest,
serve,
teach,
heal,
forgive,
and keep believing—
keep believing—
that this nation can still become
the promise it wrote down
before it fully understood the cost.
So to her we say:

Happy birthday, America.

Happy birthday—
with gratitude in our throats,
with tears behind our eyes,
with memory in our bones,
and with responsibility in our hands.
The birth of free people power
is now 250 years young.

Inshallah—
another 250 to come.

Not because freedom is easy,
but because freedom is sacred.

Not because we have arrived,
but because we are still walking.

Still carrying.
Still singing.
Still believing.

In the land of the free—
and the home
of the brave.