I feel the cries of the people are like voices echoing into
a silence across the desert sands until they are forgotten
to be heard.
I feel the pleading, the begging, the praying, the marching
are like stains that reflect shadows of the innocent falling
painfully from life into the crevices between the sand
hills, until a portion of mother earths life is swallowed
up only to be remembered.
I feel negative hearts and minds, are over-heated by the dessert
sun, and pressured by confused reasons, some seen and too
much unseen, and misunderstood being far above their knowledge,
causing stubborn impulses for violence, and creating death by the
multitude only to digest it into nothingness.
I feel that the insect that stings poison and dies after loosing
its stinger hits people like a bad sand storm, bruising thoughts,
suffocating dreams, blurring visions of hope, wanting to cover
themselves for protection, confused about directions, because it’s
happening anywhere. Yet we live, and happiness hasn’t abandoned
I feel secretly we know, the chanting, rejoicing, and triumph for
the wrong done, along with those left crying, hurting, and
praying for it to stop, shows darkness seems to be a veil over the
faces of the innocent and the guilty. What is hidden will
be revealed. What crawls beneath, will eventually surface.