06.08.21
Hear our voices above the roar.
Hear the plea of wounded hearts.
For in the darkness there are those
Who’s everything was ripped apart.
Taste our bitterness in food and drink,
Prepared with skill beyond belief.
See the destruction behind the beauty
Of ancient ruins and aged relief.
Hear our voices in the crowd.
In pain, we sing ourselves to sleep.
See the dryness in our eyes,
For we have learned we cannot weep.
Forget not those whose tears have dried
On parched grounds where bones are laid.
Remember those whose frowns are buried
In tattered pillows where beds are made.
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