You called us dust and distant lands.
With sandstorm veil and mysteries bound,
With feet as sharp as cactus wren:
You claimed the stars, your hands were scarred.
Beyond the nitrate mine and cross,
You carried us to ocean’s scents,
To know the horrors of the edge,
To ask us how we bent the Earth.
We wept and tasted desert rose,
We shook beneath the condor’s wing,
We hid from caracara’s claw.
You called this home, this tear-stained sky.
We lived in fear of men and dogs,
For freedom begged the desert moon.