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Cry


We are the nameless ones.
Victims of pride, of hate, of lies–
Of fear.
We are the ones in unmarked graves,
Bundled by spurning hands
And feet–
Final harvest before night.
We are the statistics.
The hundreds, the thousands, 
The millions
Who fell to
The ones.
 
Why do we cry
From beyond the veil?
Why echo down the halls
Of the future?
 
We would warn you.
 
Look out for the ones
Who rise by crushing
The millions.
 
Look out for the reapers, with sharpened scythes,
Bundling into sheaves
The fruitful stalks.
 
Look out for the liars,
Afraid of the truth
We stand for.
 
We were the stepping stones,
The garnered grain.
We have seen it.
We know.
 
Will you hear us?  
Will you hear
The nameless ones?
 
Do not fear the truth;
It will set you free.
 
We are the nameless ones–
The truth-bearers.
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Comments (1)

Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda
<div>Powerful expression. Always let poetry fill your life. Keep expressing your heart. &nbsp;</div><div>&nbsp;</div>

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