Be honest about what's breaking your heart

A boy named Ralph, questions about justice, and permissions given by an ancient sacred song

By the rivers of where we’ve been held in captivity—
there is where we sat down and cried
when we remembered Our Home.
There, by the river, we hung our harps
on the willow trees,
because our captors were taunting us, asking us to sing our cultural songs for them.
Our tormentors mocked us, saying,
“Sing us one those songs from your homeland!”

How can we sing th…