Every tear 

was not something to fear,

they don't kneel,

unless they are to feel, 

the grain that heals.

Every grain, 

is a muscle gained,

all is contained

from a broken frame-

such fame.

Letting us walk by ourselves through the hall 

while opening their arms just in case we fall.

Narrow vision of their beliefs-

that is free. 

But all hundreds fall like weightless leaves-

from a tree.

A beautiful night for agony

and hospitality,

who knew such calamity

can be a normality.

Only for family.