My DNA Screamed LET FREEDOM RING

This third post was a tough one. It dug deep as I wrestled with the question: “How can I be the change?” My answer? Cry…write…sing… from a broken heart. And so it flows—messy, raw, dissonant, complex, tragic . . . real.

Let Freedom Ring: the Song that Fought Back

The song landed shortly after Election Day, darkly echoing familiar patriotic musical themes.  Recording it was like riding a bucking horse--its meter kept turning abruptly with time signature lines resembling math equations.  I released it last night; to hear it just click on the image.

click above to listen

The Image That Lit the Fuse

One evening, I was scrolling through Facebook and landed on an image a dear friend had posted—a roaring red tsunami. I could not look away. My stomach tightened, my breath dropped, and something older than thought awakened. My DNA screamed.

In an instant, images of traumatized people who resembled my birth family rose up on the inner screen. Manzanar is only a couple of hours from my home—its quiet museum standing in stark contrast to the violent displacement it memorializes.

I remember standing inside those drafty wooden quarters, imagining families stripped of their dignity, freezing in the high desert winds.

These were my people—Japanese Americans allowed to fight for the country that locked them away first.

My mother—gone now since 2017—worked for decades in a California bank. Her green card had long expired. Had history repeated itself during her lifetime, she could have been deported or detained. The thought still lands tenderly. Today, many families carry that same breath-by-breath fear.

Seeing that red-wave image unleashed the grief of generations—ancestral, personal, collective. And from that grief, the song.

The Valley of the Shadow

The song chronicles my own walk through the valley of the shadow—guided by the strange calm of an inner messenger. The presence felt like an angel, firm and quiet, reminding me to stay awake inside what felt like a surreal and tragic dream.

Those words—awake inside the dream—stayed with me. They still do.

Because freedom, when you strip away the slogans, is not a guarantee. It is a practice. A devotion. A way of being awake.

Let Freedom Ring: the Lyrics

My Country ’Tis of Thee

Cried in a dream to me

For Thee I sing

Migrants were runnin' hard

Chased with guns near and far

Families were grieving

Dearest ones were leaving

While tidal waves of blood

Broke in an angry flood

Frightened and betraying

Then I heard an angel saying:

“The life you see is more than what it seems

Find yourself awake inside the dream

See yourself awake

Feel yourself awake

Be yourself awakened in this dream”

In Truth forever stand

Breathing Grace with the land

Healing wounds with kindness

Loving through the blindness

My Country ’Tis of Thee

Whispered in hope to me:

Let freedom ring

Let freedom ring

© 2024 by Colleen Akiko

Why I Wrote This

Songs often come when words aren’t enough—when the intellect short-circuits and the heart steps forward with its own language. This one arrived with the unmistakable urgency of history repeating itself, asking us not to look away.

We are living through a time of profound unraveling and reweaving.

The question is whether we will listen—awake.

May we dig deep and reach high, drawing from the Wellspring that nourishes courage, justice, and clarity.

May we remember the ones who walked before us, the ones walking now, and the ones who are yet to come.

Let freedom ring—not as a slogan, but as our purposeful choice.

—Colleen Akiko

With utter gratefulness,

--Colleen "Weaver Bird" Akiko 🪶