…and here I stand
on your shoulders my fathers.
The brick smells of your sweat,
the roads trace your journey,
the bread breathes your fire,
the mountain stands as your challenge,
the spirit sings your song.

….and they ask me to forgo
all that is yours - my inheritance.
Submit to their sly offerings,
cripple my ego,
surrender without a fight my right to be your son.

How could I then not speak?
How could I then not fight?
How could I let the bricks fall one by one?
How could I let you down my fathers and believe in ‘HIM’?

(This is a counter to “Hu...”.
Though not quite as poetic, but perhaps as effective.)