hearts beat on

A sea of people I find out there, too many hidden hurts.
A heart is not a wooden box, to store up memories.
It is a place where hope resides, until no hope is left.
When hope is gone, we lose ourselves in a struggle to be free.
We look for love in places where love simply cannot abide.
We learn to hate, to shift the blame, ashamed of what we hide.
These struggles, choices, that we face are never faced alone.
Though we believe we are lost, in this pain we are found.
So many cries of pain tonight fill my aching ears.
Where is the hope we seem to have lost? Hidden in our tears?
Perhaps the thought that faces us is not what we have done,
but can we live the way we chose? This fight have we really won?
If the answer that we find is not the one we want, this war was fought in vain.
Where are the people of this world? Can’t they hear our cries of shame.
No! The wooden box we call a heart keeps them from our tearful cries.
They cannot help us with our pain until they heal their heart inside.
And 5 years from today a life we might just know is slowly disappearing
now until it is gone.
And yet our hearts beat on.

Comments

MVP-Most Valuable Poet

this is a beautifully written poem

everything about the heart is true

heart is never a wooden box-it pumps up one's spirits and soul that continues to inspire and live

thank yoy for sharing this piece-great poem

brillz

truely beautifull and true you  really captued he heart that is trully amazing

venuschild

Is this a prose poem ? 

If so it is wonderful. I enjoyed it. 

Jan Wienen

Very special ...