Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

My Damn Powerless Hands

Hands

 

It is hard

when you don’t know

where you are going.

And where

you have been,

is fading fast

for the ties that bind us –

barely lie past

the wounds we carry…

 

There has been loss

there is loss

there is more loss

than anyone can ever imagine

and though my heart still beats,

it is not the same.

 

What horrors

Have crossed my path

And what pangs of hunger

Suffering and mistreatment

Has my child had to witness?

My hands to hold

The only things left –

To help him feel safe

In a world that cares not

Our fate,

And even there –

I am powerless.

 

The sun may rise tomorrow

for some,

hovering in all her beauty

above the horizon

I’ve seen such beauty once,

but I can no longer bear to see it.

 

For everything I have lost –

I once held

in my two hands

and their emptiness shatters

the silence of my days.

 

Were I to mourn?

Who would listen?

Were I to cry out injustice

Who would speak for me?

I am but a lone voice

In a wilderness

That has been given

Me no chance

To right the wrongs

That I have borne.

 

Go back, they say

Yet where shall I turn to?

My weary child

Begs for safety

And though I am capable,

I have been prevented

From giving him a home.

 

And though I have travelled miles

Through sweat, hardship and tears

There is nothing left to fight for

As they carry my child away,

Arms flailing,

Crying out my name –

And my powerless hands

My damn powerless hands

Can do nothing.

 

© Sumyanna 2018

 

A similar poem was written by me in 2016 about Syrian refugees.  The story keeps being retold, and nothing has been learned.  Incredibly sad time we live in.

 

Image: Courtesy of Pexels.com

 

Posted in Historical Portrait Poetry, On Life, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thinking Out Loud, Thoughtful Poems

Hate Breeds Hate, The Mother of All Lessons

Resist (2)

 

The land is parched,

the sun reigns down

in fervent, feverish glee

but the rains refuse to come.

The rains have all been washed away

in tear-like repose

that slowly slid across the earth –

unnoticed, uncared for, and forgotten.

The powerful torrents of tears have passed

from years of thoughtless endeavor

they quickly fell beneath our feet

and we cursed their own creation,

summoning gold to fill our pockets

while we overlooked future truths.

The earth wept

for all the hurt-filled lies

the shouted curses

the sounds of boots marching

in weary streets

as indifferent shadows

carried ominous signs written in their soul’s ink.

You can hear them,

crooning repulsive war slogans –

go home

or better yet, just die

but not on our land.

This hatred is how we got here

all tied up in a bow

slung from the hate-filled backs

of protestors on different streets

but the feet were marching

to a similar odious tune.

Chanting whistled through the air

the intent of which resonated

whips lashing at innocent backs

you could hear the contact

and feel the torn flesh beneath its weight.

The result was infestation

and the air was filled with putrid blood

and still, they continued on, unquenched.

They cursed everything separate from them

felt comfort in their own hate

and they slid across the streets breeding lies

and what good did it bring?

Hate is the pestilence

that crawls upon this earth

and the result is death and grief

and then – more hate.

So now, yes – there are no more tears

just a lingering stillness of discontent

a waiting in the false silence

for the howls of war to begin

and each side peers to the next

waiting for the opportune moment

to take another one down

massaging their sleep-deprived skulls

with a salve of malicious intent

because the other side –

are animals

they are not human

they do not deserve

to live in peace

and they’re much better off

dead

and I have more right

I have more right

I have more right

is the nighttime tune

they all use to lull themselves to sleep

only to wake, armed and ready

for another day in infamy

and they dress themselves in degradation.

The truths of history,

we should know them well

for the earth still weeps beneath our feet

in remembrance

but our intelligence blinds us to those truths

but know that there are those of us

who will refuse to take up arms

to fight a war we don’t believe in

and though you may have forgotten the words,

we shall pray for peace.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Wonderful image courtesy of Pixabay.com