Lost in the fear of what may come
And sorrow for what will be.
My fear is an impotent thing
Unable to reach beyond the screaming vaults of my mind
And so I cry to you without hope
For I have hope of nothing
Except that perhaps I am not alone in my fear.
My fear is shared by distant families
Who speak a different tongue
And live a different life
But love the same way that I love.
Families that are broken and incomplete
Mourning the loss of too many of their own
In the horrors of a war they cannot escape.
My fear is shared by those I see on the street
Those I pass each day
With whom I share a glance or word.
Who wonder when their child--
Their sibling, their parent, their friend--
Will be called to shed blood
In this never ending cycle of violence for power.
I am afraid, beloved.
And I ask that you speak to me in my fear.
Speak to me simply so that I remember I am not alone
That I am joined in my fear by so many others
And perhaps, when I am ready,
I will remember that together we have our own power.
But for now, beloved, just speak to me.
For I am afraid.
And I am lost in the fear.
No comments:
Post a Comment