THE WAITING… (1)

 

I am a drop in the Ocean

I am a grain of sand

I am a tree in the forest

I am alone in the crowd.

Do I pray to life a wilted petal

Who may plant a broken stem

Oh fools neglect deep rotten root

Silent screams are loud within me

I cannot find the words.

Day and night the protest weeps dying

Still words don’t always come

What is left to reap

When landmarks are uprooted

and legacies are hidden, buried

Where are the gifts they left us

Where are the many good old days

Only old men remember

What young children never saw

How are aged memories selective laced

Who will see the feathered cap of the young dreamer

Behind the glory of fat thieves

Time forever watches

Do not count on her to grant our wishes

We know not how long we shall wait.

The visitor is a perfect painted glass

Let me see the other side where the journey began.

Can the poor be at peace

When stomachs walls engage in war

Why teach morals to the starving

When he writhes in sickness bed?

I am not at the mountain’s peak

I am not at its craggy foot.

I am somewhere in between

Where obscurity resides

Time is both enemy and friend

Though the day delays,

Hope will finally come

And I shall sigh no more in waiting…

 

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