This is my song, O God of all the nations, a song of peace for lands afar and mine. This is my home, the country where my heart is; here are my hopes, my dreams, my sacred shrine. But other hearts in other lands are beating, with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.
My country's skies are bluer than the ocean, and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine. But other lands have sunlight too and clover, and skies are everywhere as blue as mine. O hear my song, O God of all the nations, a song of peace for their land and for mine.
I'm home now, but the faces of those I met and saw in Cairo remain present: the hustler-driver, the front desk clerks, the hotel concierge, the hotel guests, the waitress on my last day. Are they safe? As I watch the horrifying image of the violence in Cairo, I hope so.
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