Humanity

Who is it that hears not my cries?
As I lay motionless in my grave
Staring at the nail dug lid
With a heart that lays in innocence.

For I was born in unconditional love to walk with serenity
But instead, I have to suffer miseries burdens
As I beckon humbly and yearn for freedom
As oppression continues to be my lot.

My body is beaten with the warm blood still spattered across my chest
My bones are in tatter’s scattered by lies forgotten
The tears moisten the soil across every inch of the four winds
With droplet pools filled with anguish.

As you look at me- you see your sister, your brother, your child, your wife, your husband
But you no longer seek my embrace
If I ask you my name, your tongue will cease to speak.
So I lay here in contemplation for hope to be renewed.

-HRM Deborah