Freedom Keeps Coming (The Long Road)
A Juneteenth anthem about memory, resistance, and the unfinished road toward liberation
I wrote two versions of this song last year for Juneteenth. Same title, different lyrics. This is the second version. (As always, scroll down for alternate genres.)
Lyrics
They came ashore in Galveston, blue coats and Union pride,
Granger read the order out while the sea stood dignified.
“All slaves are free,” the paper said, “with rights to work and own.”
But freedom’s voice was trembling, and we were far from home.
Some danced, some wept, some ran to find the names they’d lost to sale,
Some masters lied, some pulled their guns, said freedom was a tale.
But word had come, and word held weight, and though the sky was gray,
We marked the flame, we made a vow: We’d honor Juneteenth Day.
Freedom keeps coming, it don’t stand still.
It’s a train in the night climbing up the hill.
It’s a hymn and a warning, it’s the fight and the friend.
Freedom ain’t a moment; it’s the road that won’t end.
We built our schools, we cast our votes, we married in the light,
We wore our names, we bought our land, we stepped into our right.
But white hoods wrote the Black Codes, and justice wore a mask,
And soon the laws were blades again, and freedom was a task.
They burned our books, they shut our towns, they beat us for our breath,
And said our rise was arrogance, and dignity was theft.
But still we held our memory, and passed the flame along,
In churchyard speeches, whispered prayers, and children’s freedom songs.
Freedom keeps coming, through smoke and bone;
It’s carved in names we call our own.
It’s buried in cotton, it’s nailed to the trees;
It walks through fire and sings through grief.
They made us ride the back of buses, drink from separate wells,
But we took Juneteenth with us, through city streets and hell.
From Houston east to Harlem’s hum, to Oakland’s rising sun,
We cooked our food, we told our tales, we never came undone.
We danced beneath red, black, and green, our joy a kind of fight,
Because the world said, “Know your place,” and we said, “Know our right.”
Through jukebox truth and marching feet, we laid another track;
For every step they pushed us down, we rose up and pushed right back.
Freedom keeps coming, in the hush and roar;
In the eyes of the child they tried to ignore.
It’s the verse we repeat when they steal the refrain;
It’s the echo of chains turned into a flame.
Now they ban the books, and close the doors, and say, “We’re colorblind.”
But color is the banner still, in justice redefined.
They pull their funds from festivals, they say the past is done,
But we’ve seen how long a shadow lasts beneath a bitter sun.
And still we gather, still we shout, still we love and learn,
Still we teach our babies that the fire has to burn.
Because freedom isn’t given; it’s something we become,
Each time we rise, each time we run, each time we beat the drum.
Freedom keeps coming, through every age;
It’s written in loss and born in rage.
From Granger’s voice to this very breath;
We live it in struggle, in love, in death.
It’s not just a holiday, not just a name;
It’s the story we carry in soul and flame.
Freedom keeps coming, it don’t pretend;
It’s the road we walk, again and again.