horsegirljen10

Ah, sometimes when the clouds stare at the sky I wonder who they share their stories with. Might God regard them as mere passerby And never bless their minds with patience's kiss? And also lie the flowers in the mud; At such a low place they must not be heard. Although I know that He is in each bud, I cannot think He listens to each word! As earth is drenched in rain or thrust to sun, He keeps but watchful eyes, not mindful ears. So every breath of lonely from our lungs Serves only to confine us with our fears. Yet every blessed night I kneel to pray; Though flawed, his love is one I will obey.

It was December by the time I could look back Months before the faces stopped haunting me; The ones I had left behind; The ones who had prayed and wept for mercy And had received none It was a long time before I could reflect On the love and the loss that they had faced, That I had faced, And the small things that we had retained during Those long years at war Finding myself weeping equally for the losses And the salvaged things It was winter before I could feel good about myself About the small thing I had done And not be drowned by the millions That I could not add to my list The countless ashes that I could feel on my han

O to be able to have that same freedom as we once did; Such things are joys too great to ask for. Instead to be bound by such feeble materials; Despite our crude ties we cannot escape the prison. Such is our education, our socialization Held together with scraps of paper and a small dream Thankfully, we know that we will come out of it alive Despite the pain and sleep deprivation Luckily we can imagine a time when this work is meaningless When more important things will rule us And that is why we push on through the storm That is why we do the work set before us, Because someday it will all be done And we'll be able to look back