They tiptoed into my sleep wearing dusty clothes and no shoes. They tried to not let me hear them, but the little girl put forth a giggle and the boy laughed, too, soon the whole room teetered in merriment. A while passed and a hush fell all around us, a silent prayer, save for the short breaths of the children, petite puffs in search of a throat.
There were nearly twenty in the group. They had been searching for years, but were always met with sideways glances and, oftentimes, violence. They smelled like sand. They were gentle. I sensed they’d come for my help, but, short of giving them water, I knew not what I could do. I wept at the looks on their faces, the pain, the anguish, the truth.
The little boy began to cry, followed soon after by the little girl, then we all began to weep. Our crying grew into an unexpected howl, a sorrowful choir of wingless angels.
Our hymn shattered the floor of Heaven and a great anointing of water fell down upon us all...
Copyright © 2006 mrp / mark richard prime / thepoetryman
It is the evening of the day
ReplyDeleteI sit and watch the children play
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch as tears go by
My riches can't buy everything
I long to hear the children sing
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch as tears go by
--song by Mick Jagger, Keith Richards
SadButTrue, Thank you for the visit and the great lyrics!
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