Why I write
That is the question isn’t it?
Why do rhymes and songs of verbs and the paintings of words consume my spirit?
To be the sustenance of my soul and the beatings of my heart?
As my tears cry in poetry
And my fears sung through melody
Can I tell you my story?
Set your eyes upon the mountain tops
And let your heart search the depths of the valleys
In all the four corners of the earth and in all the cities
What do you see?
There is a girl hiding alone in darkness
A boy whose self-identity deems worthless
A woman running from her past
A man fearing his future to not last
Children uncared for
People caught in the downpour
Where is their voice?
Crying out to be heard in the wilderness
This is a broken generation
We all need salvation
To bind our hearts together as one
And to hear our songs well sung
We sing of love
We sing of hope
We sing of heartache, dreams, and fears
We sing our prayers up and above
And yet, do we even know?
Can we even hear?
Do we listen?
To our sisters and our brothers
As their stories shatter and their hearts cave in?
As their foes rise against them in fury
And the chaos is more than they can bury?
Wake up, and listen to these words
So that we all can be heard