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Together we rise in remembrance: An interview with Seemi Ghazi

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On Father’s Day 2024, which also falls on Eid-al-adha, please rise up with the spirit of Abidullah Al-Ansari Ghazi and Refaat Al Areer and watch this interview between Convergence Publisher Cayden Mak and Seemi Ghazi. Seemi Ghazi performs Refaat Alareer’s final poem, If I Must Die.

“Sometimes a heart breaks. Sometimes a heart breaks open.” Omid Safi

Dedicated to the memory of Abidullah Al-Ansari Ghazi, Muhammad Mian Mansoor Ansari, Refaat Al Areer, Jim Branson, the victims of the Pulse nightclub shooting, Mahmoud Darwish, Ghassan Kanafani, and all of the tender souls we’ve lost who were guided by great feelings of love.

Seemi is welcoming anyone who wishes to participate to donate and share this GoFundMe for 20 Gazan families. They send 100% of the funds directly to heads of households in Gaza, most of them women. They are a small interfaith collective with personal relationships with these families. They send photos of each purchase- food, medicine, tent, clothes. In some urgent cases they have helped people evacuate. The gofundme amount represents all funds raised and disbursed over several years. Currently they are distributing every penny as soon as it comes in


Cayden Mak: Well, first of all, Seemi, thank you so much for joining me today. The first thing I want to ask you is really about the act of remembering. And because one of the things I learned after my father died from my beloved chosen family, Sammie Ablaza Wills, who, they lost their mom at almost the exact same time that I lost my father, is that one of the best metabolizers for grief is actually just remembering.

And in that spirit what is the story that you have to tell about your father, perhaps, especially one that’s about a detail that is sort of minute, but deeply meaningful for you.

Seemi Ghazi: Yeah, you know, so my, my father I just describe him for a moment. He’s, he’s very elegant, very subtle. He was a poet, scholar, educator, activist incredible orator, charming and witty.

And, and he looked like you know those paintings of Chinese scholars? That’s, that’s how I think of him, you know? And especially as he aged, he really grew into that, that delicacy. Like he was, he was like a bit of brushwork, my father, really,

and had this beautiful full feathery, wispy hair that was dark black and then peppered and then luminous silver, like a nimbus, like a halo.

And he just exuded light. So there was a place in the living room that I consider his power corner when you walked into our living room and two sofas would meet. And he would sit at the corner where the two sofas meet. He had a coffee table. He had a lamp. It was always piled high with books. And he’d have his chai, and he’d sit there and read, and he’d be writing in his beautiful notebooks.

And I’d walk into the house and I would see him there. And so what I recall is the expression he would have when I walked into the house. And sometimes when I’d come in. he would stand, like he would rise to greet me. And it was so moving to me because at some point I heard this tradition, hadith of the Prophet, may peace be upon him.

And Prophet Muhammad was very close to his daughter, Fatima. They were soulmates. They were very close. And there’s a hadith that says that whenever she would enter the room, he would rise. To greet her now. I come from South Asia and in South Asian tradition. We have deep filial piety You might have seen in Bollywood films Where people enter a room and they touch their parents feet

Cayden Mak: Mmhmm.

Seemi Ghazi: An act of respect.

It’s a beautiful gesture In our milieu, in a Muslim milieu often we go to elders We bow our head and they place their hands on our head and bless it But there’s this tradition that the Prophet would actually rise, he himself would rise when his daughter would enter the room. This was his his young daughter and and I realized that often my father would get up from that couch and rise to greet me.

But more often, I mean on every occasion, it’s like something within him rose up. Like, I’d enter the room and I would feel his spirit rise to greet me. I would feel like his, his being rising up to greet me and of course it would emerge in a smile or a greeting or something in the eyes and, and there was a vulnerability in it too because he had a very hard childhood.

He lost his mother when he was very young and had a lot of exile, a lot of rejection. in his childhood, as well as a lot of that chosen family kind of love. So I think what I do in his memory is I try to rise like that. For everyone, I mean, because everybody is someone’s child, you know, there’s a child within everyone in some way you know, Muhammad for us is the figure, he’s like the representative of a kind of light, and we’re all children of that light.

It’s like the light of humanity. So that’s been a really powerful act of remembering for me. Either to rise in person or to rise in spirit.

Cayden Mak: Yeah.

Seemi Ghazi: When I encounter people. And to remember when I’m down that he, he did that for me. That’s, that’s who I am. I’m, I’m the one for whom this beautiful man would rise for whom his being would rise.

Cayden Mak: exhales in agreement/emotion.

Seemi Ghazi: I when I’m struggling or I feel, you know, sad or bad about myself or I’m berating myself as we all do. This is a balm.

Cayden Mak: Oh, that’s so tender. Okay. Thank you so much for sharing that with us.

Seemi Ghazi: You’re welcome. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share this.

Cayden Mak: Yeah, yeah. I feel like it’s those little things that are really so critical to remembering.

It is like that small gesture. It’s in the gesture. It’s in the like, sort of like, I don’t know. There’s like moments of intimacy that are not They’re not like for everyone usually, but yeah yeah, we carry them deep within us. I guess maybe to get a little conceptual about it is would you talk a little bit more about what This kind of remembering does for you both personally, as you’re sort of moving through your life, but also, like, in in your activism in community and how, how is remembering through grief supportive for you?

Seemi Ghazi: I know, I think that my, father is a model for me because well, first of all, he lived through so many kinds of grief. You know, his, own family was torn apart literally because his great grandfather was resisting British imperialism in India and was exiled. He was condemned to hang and had to leave.

India left my great grandmother and my grandfather and his siblings. And he went and lived with the Azad Qaba’il, the free tribes in Afghanistan, actually. So my father was raised by a father who was in that sense, orphaned of his father.

So, I mean, there’s a lot of heroism and we tell the story of these like you know, noble decolonial ancestors who were fighting and but at the same time, there’s, there’s the trauma there.

And that’s, that’s the vulnerability that I witnessed in my father. Like he would rise, but it was always, there was always something. There’s always a question about how he would be received. It was so endearing. It, it evoked such tenderness in me. But he was a freedom fighter and the son of freedom fighters not just the men, the women, and I remember that when I despair what we’re witnessing the genocide in Gaza is.

shattering to the soul. It’s devastating. And my father was exceptionally generous. The amount of charity that he gave, the ways in which he gave it, we took thousands of people that he educated, uplifted, fed, nourished. And he was never a man who had a lot. He was a scholar, he was a student. And then, you know, he was a, you know, junior prof with five children and, but so when I’m in grief, I really, I just, I try to turn around and give.

That’s what I do. Every time it feels overwhelming, I’ve thought, can I help one person have a meal? Can I help somebody to get a tent? Can I help somebody you know, recently Gazans were needing to leave Rafah for supposedly safer zones. Well, transport for a family out of Rafah is about 400 dollars. And if you’re sitting in Rafah and you’ve been told to leave because flyers are falling, where do you come up with that 400 dollars?

So, you know, I mean, my father really taught me this Muslim principle. If you save one life, it’s as if you’ve saved humanity. And if you kill one soul, it’s as if you’ve killed all humanity. And so my goal has been to try to save one life, one more life in whatever way I can. And he was always ready with a willing ear to support people and to listen.

I have one of my best friends in high school. He calls her the night wanderer. After she would leave the public library you know, at like 1130 PM. In high school, she would come to my house and she’d sit in the living room with my dad. I’m an early bird I’m a morning person. I wake with the birds with my mom Fajr prayer dawn prayer, but they would be up He’s like, oh my night warder was with me last night And you know as you just talked to him and they and this so this is the kind of person he was so that’s what I strive to do To be a listening ear to be a caring heart to be a harbor I can’t say that i’m one one hundredth of what he was in that respect and, but but he inspires me to do the best that I can with my capacities.

Cayden Mak: I really, I really love, I, I, I gotta say, I really love it when I hear about people’s parents who have friendships with their friends.

Seemi Ghazi: Yes.

Cayden Mak: Like, there’s, there’s something about that particular parent, to me, that is like, they, there’s, there’s, it says there’s something very specific about their character, right?

That it’s like, it’s not just like, here are these kids, who are just running around, whatever, but it’s like, I don’t know, an adult who takes an interest in their kid’s friends like that, I feel like is such a like it’s, it’s taking, it’s taking the role of, of teaching and mentorship so seriously. My mom was like that too, that she was, she was very, like, she was always asking me about what my friends were doing.

She wanted them to come over. She wanted to have dinner with them and ask them about their interests. And it was like, she was also an educator and like, yeah. There’s so that, like, and she remembered them to, like, as I went away to college, whatever, like, she would ask me about them. And I, I just think that and, like, ask if they wanted to come over when I was home for the holidays and stuff like that.

I just think that, like, there’s something very just, like, gentle and conscientious about. An adult who takes interest in their kid’s friends like that.

Seemi Ghazi: I bet, I bet she gave you a gift because in your grieving, then your friends understand. They can be with you in it because they’re connected to her. I mean, they must be connected to her as she was connected to them.

So it makes you less alone. They carry the memory.

Cayden Mak: It was really like actually, after both of my parents died, I was surprised at how many of my friends from, even friends I hadn’t spoken with in a long time, came back to me and were like, I remember, you know, your dad helping out with our like, Extracurricular physics Olympiad team and like, how excited he got about the projects that we were doing together and and you know, that that involvement in my, my, like, social and intellectual life.

I think. Yeah, you’re right. It’s like, it’s a, it really helped me through that time in a way that. I think, and taught me about community, right? Without me even really knowing about it, that, like, there’s a way in which you just show up to, like, these everyday things with, like, the genuine excitement you have for other people and for ideas and, and whatever it might be that, like, you don’t know what seeds you’re planting when you’re doing that, but someday, somebody, maybe not even you, somebody will reap that reward.


Seemi Ghazi: Yeah, no, he, one, one story that really sticks out for me is that I, I was with him in India and I would travel, I’ve had the pleasure of traveling with him in India several times, but so we were in India and we were in one of a series of little villages where he comes from and we were walking and then this woman came like running out.

She, she must have been. In her 40s in her 50s something like that and she started talking to him and she was so excited and She said I heard someone said that you were here And we would go to each village for like maybe three hours and then go on to the next one We wouldn’t there was no time right but she said I heard I heard you were here Someone said they saw you at the mosque and I came running to find you so this woman like 20 years before, had ended up being widowed, and she had children, and she had no money.

She wasn’t a relative, but she came from this village that he was from, and she wrote to him somehow, and told him this, and said, you know, if you could send me money for a sewing machine, I know how to sew, and I could raise my children. From that income and at the time he was a graduate student with five children supporting His brother my mom’s brother and my mom’s sister all of whom sponsored to come so and he was sending money to his own parents and immediate family and Somehow he got the money for a sewing machine and sent that to this woman.

So she, she wanted to find him and say that I became a seamstress and I with dignity was able to earn a living and like raise and educate and feed my children and they’re doing okay now. And She went running through the streets to, you know, to tell him this, right? And of course he’d forgotten that this had even happened.

Cayden Mak: Sure.

Seemi Ghazi: You know, but literally there’s tens of thousands of stories like this With him. It was so, you know, so this yeah, it just keeps me humble and it and it keeps me Striving.

Cayden Mak: Yeah. Yeah this is going off script a little bit, but that made me think also. So when I was in college, I got to travel.

My dad grew up in Hong Kong, and he was born in mainland China before the communist revolution. And We, like, our family has, like, really long sort of recorded history. But I got to travel with him a little bit in China when I was in my early 20s. It’s like that story made me think of just like all the, like, quirky little things were like going to a place where you know, I’ve, I never, I’ve never lived in Hong Kong or in China and just like traveling with him and like, even the, the sort of, like, Him remembering because he smelled something, you know, that was like familiar and like, telling me a weird little story about like him being young and like or like the, he was in Hong Kong when I flew out and the night that I arrived, he picked me up at the airport and we went to just like the little, like, basically diner near my aunt and uncle’s apartment and he ordered for me because he was like, you have to eat this.

Seemi Ghazi: Yeah.

Cayden Mak: You know, he was like, this is, this is my comfort food and you have to eat it. But just that experience of like, traveling with your parents when you grew up in diaspora is like, so Ah, there’s something so special about that. Are there any, are there any other things sort of like that that from, from traveling with him in India that you can think of?

Seemi Ghazi: You know, one of the most amazing experiences I had with him was that we have family in Afghanistan Because of that great grandfather who went to exile there in order to actually receive exile, he married a woman there as well. And so I had two great grandmothers, the one in India and the one who was there.

And and I have a whole Afghan branch of my family. And when The Russians invaded, they had to leave right away because this is a family, they’re a family of scholars and, and activists and so they left right away and left their beautiful gardens and homes and work and were living in refugee camps in Peshawar and my dad took me, like, he took me to Peshawar and we stayed and we lived with them.

Where they were living, you know, with one room with mattresses all around and all of us sleeping on these mattresses and what really struck me, like the dignity and just the tenderness of these men, the tenderness of my uncles, like just the way they would put their hand on my shoulder or look at me in Persian.

We use the epithet, jaan, which is like life or breath or soul. What’s amazing about it is that it cuts across all barriers of class, of age, of gender, of status. So it is always respectful to call. You, for example, you know, Cayden jaan, and it doesn’t matter what is your gender, what is your age. So they would call me, Seemi jaan, and I could call them, you know, also, you know, Inayat jaan, or sometimes Ammu jaan, Uncle jaan, but the tenderness in it and the strength and also vulnerability it was an amplification of him.

It was like seeing him replicated in so many different forms. And and they said often, you know, that when they had their big houses and their gardens, you know, of course, family would come to visit and stay. And it was, but now that they were in this situation, it’s my father, it’s my father who honored them the same way, who’s still coming to be with them and, and spend time with them and, and even more to love them even more.

So yeah, that was a really powerful experience. I would be with him. He would you know, he’d go visit the barber that he was friends with from childhood and sit like on the floor of their shop. And India is a very class based, it’s a, you know, class, caste, class, this is really important. And so They were ostensibly from different worlds, but he would just go sit there in his shop and spend hours with him.

And then in the same city, Bombay, he would go and take me to other homes where someone, you know, a friend of his has a, they have a garage with 50 antique cars. And when you sit at dinner, there’s people who actually walk around the dinner table with the platters. So you just stop them at any point.

So he was, and he just gave the same love and respect and time to everybody. So traveling with him was quite extraordinary.

Cayden Mak: Yeah. That sounds amazing. I don’t know, I, I, I also feel like the thinking about being in diaspora and homecoming is feels also very tender around what we’re seeing unfold in Palestine right now.

And I’m curious about how grief has shifted during this time when we’ve watched this, like, real time live stream genocide unfold in Gaza and what grief has sort of been able to unlock for you. As you’ve engaged in this political moment

Seemi Ghazi: that’s a really profound and complex question.

Cayden Mak: It is.

Seemi Ghazi: Yeah. So in some ways my experience has been atypical because I had an accident on October 7th and I sustained some burns and a fracture, but quite a severe concussion. So I’ve been on medical leave and I was not able to Be present at protests, and I think a lot of our processing is like through this physical act of being in a protest, being in like company being in a place that mirrors your grief, your outrage your aspiration.

To try to bring some water to this fire if it’s one drop that you’re bringing with your voice So it was very hard. I was really isolated. I was at home a lot of the time and I had to really And I couldn’t even be in Zooms because my screen time was limited to 20 minutes a day, really. Yeah, so My father has a PhD in comparative religion, and when we were growing up, we lived at the Center for the Study of World Religions at Harvard, and we were surrounded by Hindus, Christians, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims who live in that center and study and are doing their PhDs, but are also practitioners. And we shared all our celebrations and holidays.

So this is a legacy he gave to me from my earliest days. When we moved there, I was about three. Two and a half maybe that’s where my memory begins at that place that like at the door That 1970s red door to our apartment and when you opened it, the furniture was orange and blue, right? so it was it was that it was a particular moment and

so the the way that I have dealt with my grief is by being part of a coalition of Jews and Muslims who have been supporting Initially 12 and now about 20 Families in Gaza sending money to them directly for food, for tents, for medicine, just for the basic things that they need, but also being personally in touch with them and offering emotional support.

So there are, there are two people. Out of those 12 that I have personal connections with long before October 7th, but it’s intensified since October 7th, because the need is intensified,

And really every time the grief overwhelms me, I try either to reach into what I have and also to reach out to people I know and say, look can we put one more week of meals on the table for people?

Could you help? with the money to rent, to get to rent a truck to get them from this zone to this other zone, which is not safe, but which may be safer. But it’s also, you know, the, my processing of the grief much of it has been in the WhatsApp groups where I’m talking with the people that we’re cause we collaborate, we work together.

Oh, have you sent money to this person? That person said they need something, trying to take care of everyone, but our conversations with each other. Because our grief then is, it’s grounded in like real information we’re getting in Facebook Messenger all the time, and the sharing of this real information, and the attempt to come up with whatever solutions we can and we share that kind of structural understanding of the, the causes, you know, of this, but it’s, it’s very nitty gritty and I think that helps.

Yeah. Yeah. And it, it gives me hope because we’re modeling, you know, it’s not just that we’re helping, but we’re modeling the world that can be. Yeah. So, I’m a lot better now, and I hope to be able to be in the encampments for the, you know, Shabbats and the Friday prayers yeah, and to bring some of my own experience as a Sufi teacher engaged in kinds of healing practices and ceremony into those spaces.

And also to now be able to come into the protests.

Cayden Mak: Yeah, yeah,

that’s great.

Seemi Ghazi: And be with people. I think we need to be with people.

Cayden Mak: It’s,

yeah, it’s so critical to be with people right now. And I also hope your concussion symptoms continue to get better.

Seemi Ghazi: Yeah, they’re,

they’re a lot better. That’s why I’m able to do this.

So I’m, I’m grateful. I mean, that was you know, I was, you know, In some ways, I mean, I was processing the grief through my body. It happened October 7th. So October 7th, I got this huge cast and I had chemical burns here and I had a concussion so it was so But I was receiving the most nuanced tender Subtle care, you know from people laying hands on me or putting acupuncture needles in me You know in beautiful rooms with a salt lamp You know, with the salt lamp glow and and of course the hospitals, the doctors, and I’m in Canada.

So it’s all just, this is all available to me from the government and I have excellent extended health through the university. I mean, at every moment I was just thinking about how those children under the rubble have the same subtle, delicate neural pathways as I do. They need the same care, someone saying let me put like these delicate needles in you and let your chi flow the way it needs to and allow you to heal in this safe space.

So I felt very connected through my embodiment and in the recognition of the vast difference between what I was receiving, which was everything I needed, yeah and, and what they are not receiving.

Cayden Mak: Yeah. Yeah. I had a, in November of last year, I had a major medical procedure and I had a lot of the same thoughts that like getting in the surgery prep room, you know, having a nurse bring me ice water because it’s like take the, the like anti nausea pills, you know just like the sort of like that sweet care from strangers that is really kind of what binds us together as a society and how not, you know, Available that is and that everybody deserves that level of tenderness and care.

Seemi Ghazi: Yes.

Yeah. No, it’s practitioners kept saying after a condition, your entire job is to calm your nervous system. It’s like,

Cayden Mak: This is so hard to do right now,

Seemi Ghazi: you know, this is how do I calm my nervous system? Yeah. This is like it takes a lot of discipline not to fall into. Just doom scrolling, just receiving, you know.

and, and not then also doing the work, which is the sharing or the writing your representative or showing up, taking political action, taking meaningful humanitarian action, you know. So, so I do try to, that I’m involved in the path of dervishi and turning, and that symbol of the dervish is that the, the right arm is raised and it’s receiving, and then the left arm is lowered, offering. And when you’re in pain, that’s what you’re supposed to do. Just receive, receive and be a channel, channel through your heart, filter through the heart and offer and keep moving, keep turning, keep turning and offering.

Right. And so sometimes when I don’t know what to do, I’ll just, I’ll do that practice just symbolically and allow that then to take me you know, as a way of regulating and then take me into some other action. You know, whether it’s the letter you write, whether it’s

Cayden Mak: that’s super, super beautiful. Thank you so much, Seemi.

Seemi Ghazi: You’re welcome. You’re welcome.

Salma Mirza: Thank you so much for sharing the memories of your father with us, Seemi jaan. As I know your voice to be such a beautiful voice, I knew that I wanted to ask you to bless us with a recitation. I want to ask you to perform. Refaat Alareer’s final poem, If I Must Die. Like your father, Refaat Alareer was a poet and a professor from Gaza.

One of the reasons that I asked you to speak about your father is that loving him and remembering him is in itself an act of radical resistance. The memories of the love of our gentle, tender men are themselves a threat to white supremacy, colonialism, and authoritarian fascism. Because our opponents want to portray our men as violent and therefore deserving of violence as full of hatred and therefore deserving of hatred and

death and extermination, so it is of itself an act of resistance to remember the truth about the tenderness of our men of our sons of our brothers of our fathers of our cousins of our grandfathers and our opponents know this. Alareer was deliberately targeted. Per the Euro-Med Monitor, the apartment that he was in with his family was quote, “surgically bombed out of the entire building where it’s located, according to corroborated eyewitness and family accounts, which came after weeks of death threats that Alareer received online and by phone from Israeli accounts.”. In his last interview before being killed with the sound of Israeli bombs exploding in the background, Alareer said. Quote, “I am an academic, probably the toughest thing I have at home is an Expo marker, but if the Israelis invade, if they barge at us, charge at us, open door to door to massacre us, I’m going to use that marker to throw it at the Israeli soldiers, even if it is the last thing that I would be able to do.

And this is the feeling of everyone. We are helpless. We have nothing to lose.” On the 26th of April 2024, 5 months after Israel. Israeli bombs surigcally killed Alareer and his family members. His eldest daughter Shaimaa, her husband Mohammed Siyam, and their newborn baby were killed by an Israeli air strike on their home in Gaza City.

Shaimaa had written to her father Refaat in a message after she delivered her baby a few months after her father was killed. “I have a beautiful news for you. I wish I could convey it to you. While you are in front of me, I present to you your first grandchild. Do you know, my father, that you have become a grandfather?

This is your grandson, Abd al-Rahman, who I have long imagined you carrying. But I never imagined that I would lose you early, even before you see him.”

I wanted to ask you, Seemi jaan, if you would grace us with Refaat Alareer’s final poem.

Seemi Ghazi:
If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story.
To sell my things,
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings,
(make it white with a long tail)
so that a child somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye,
awaiting his dad, who left in a blaze,
and bid no one farewell,
not even to his flesh,
not even to himself.
Sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above,
and thinks for a moment an angel is there
bringing back love.
If I must die,
let it bring hope.
Let it be a story.

Salma Mirza: Let their memories rise in justice.

Audio from Oakland Building Occupation Singing We Rise by Batya Levine: We rise, free, free, free Palestine! We rise! Free, free, free, Palestine! We rise, In hope, in prayer!


A reflection from Omid Safi on Father’s Day:
The great Ibn ‘Arabi said that everyone that reveals God can also veil God.
In other words, every channel that introduces love can also be one that brings us pain.
On this day of celebrating Fathers, and Fathers’ Day:
Love to single moms raising kids without dads,
to moms in marriages where the children’s father seems unworthy of the word “dad”,
to dads separated from kids,
to dads who have tried and tried to be with their kids, and have been unable to have that fatherly relationship they would like and deserve,
to fathers incarcerated,
to families ripped apart by immigration, refugee status, or war,
& to those for whom their “father” wasn’t a loving presence.
May you bathed in love, by any means necessary
Ya Fattah, may every channel of love that is good for you be open for you.

A little love note to Palestinian men.
You are teaching the world about love, courage, truth-telling, tenderness, faith, perseverance, and vulnerability.
You are teaching the whole world about being sacred, strong, and tender men, human beings, and people of faith.
May God bless you, keep you safe, and unite you in Heaven with your loved ones so unjustly stolen from you.

The audio snippet at the end is from the occupation of the Oakland Federal Building on November 13, 2024 of Jewish activists singing the song We Rise by Batya Levine with additional harmonies. The full lyrics of the song are as follows:

We rise
Humbly hearted
Won’t be divided
With spirit to guide us
In hope
In prayer
We find ourselves here
In hope
In prayer
We’re right here
In hope
In prayer
We find ourselves here
In hope
In prayer
We’re right here
We rise
All of the children
Elders with wisdom
Ancestors surround us
In hope
In prayer
We find ourselves here
In hope
In prayer
We’re right here
In hope
In prayer
We find ourselves here
In hope
In prayer
We’re right here
We rise
Up from the wreckage
With tears and with courage
Fighting for life
We rise
In hope
In prayer
We find ourselves here
In hope
In prayer
We’re right here
In hope
In prayer
We find ourselves here
In hope
In prayer
We’re right here
We rise
Humbly hearted
Won’t be divided
With spirit to guide us


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