Monday, May 10, 2010


He stares at empty fields, and waits for rain.
The earth below him cracked, and iron strong.
The dry wind whistles, moans, a sound profane,
As desolation sings its mournful song.

A child that cowers hopes for peace, for rest.
She huddles, soul and body, bathed in tears.
The anger swirls around her, and the rest
Is hidden, just a future wrapped in fears.

And two hands, borne by desperation, rise.
Two souls lift their pain and sorrow higher.
One strong, one weak, but both shorn of disguise,
Are held, redeemed and strengthened in the fire.

For in this world we work, we cry, we strive
And sometimes courage only means...survive!


Tammy Brierly said...

For too many that is true. Thank you for your beautiful words.

oldegg said...

A very moving piece. Great work.

Elisha said...

I like this one. The courage of survival--or i suppose the courage of the choice to survive--it's a great theme, and it is very well handled. I suppose mostly because of the picture i'm imaganing young sudanese refugees, is that what you were imagining?

Carina said...

Elisha, I hadn't gone so far as to isolate a specific country, but that's the general idea, yes.

Dee Martin said...

this is a hymn, a prayer. I am blessed by it.

Andy Sewina said...

Cool little song, I love reading sonnet's!!