Today in the library
I saw a book
about the orphan trains
of the late 1800's.
Children
whose parents died
Children
whose parents left
Children
whose parents were healthy but
could not provide for them.
Children who were sent away
far, far away
aboard a train
in dapper dress.
Some were given new families
that loved them
And some were simply
given new families.
Their voices reach me across a space of 130 years
as they recall in soft tones
their journey.
They had to ride from town to town
away from all they ever knew
with coats and boots shining bright and new
without the people that loved them.
And I have to trust
And have to pray
And have to hope
God will make it right for them
Someday.
Yesterday I heard memories from the world war
The second one.
I heard about the horror of bombs falling, exploding on American soil
And about our bombs, exploding on Japanese soil
my heart cried
because those awful bombs
hurt so many people
who had nothing to do with it.
I could see the faces of the people in Auschwitz
as people who believed and people who were born to believers
and people who were, quite simply, born
were sent to suffer
sent to die
by men who had let their hearts starve til they turned to stone.
all of them fought to survive.
And some did.
But so many of their loves did not.
And I have to trust
And have to pray
And have to hope
that God will make it right for them
Someday.
Only moments ago,
short weeks ago,
a few hours ago,
precious friends near and far tell me of their pain
the torments that tear at their souls
and the hours of
prayer
and the hours of
waiting
and the hours of
wishing
and the hours of
hoping for hope.
My heart weeps in melancholy fervor
and of my inability to make it better.
Of their perfect child who suffered and passed on in so little time.
Of their family who neglects their needs.
Of their chronic illness.
Of their anxiety, of depression
Of their day to day life.
And I have to trust
And have to pray
And have to hope
that God will make it right for them
Someday.
I saw a book
about the orphan trains
of the late 1800's.
Children
whose parents died
Children
whose parents left
Children
whose parents were healthy but
could not provide for them.
Children who were sent away
far, far away
aboard a train
in dapper dress.
Some were given new families
that loved them
And some were simply
given new families.
Their voices reach me across a space of 130 years
as they recall in soft tones
their journey.
They had to ride from town to town
away from all they ever knew
with coats and boots shining bright and new
without the people that loved them.
And I have to trust
And have to pray
And have to hope
God will make it right for them
Someday.
Yesterday I heard memories from the world war
The second one.
I heard about the horror of bombs falling, exploding on American soil
And about our bombs, exploding on Japanese soil
my heart cried
because those awful bombs
hurt so many people
who had nothing to do with it.
I could see the faces of the people in Auschwitz
as people who believed and people who were born to believers
and people who were, quite simply, born
were sent to suffer
sent to die
by men who had let their hearts starve til they turned to stone.
all of them fought to survive.
And some did.
But so many of their loves did not.
And I have to trust
And have to pray
And have to hope
that God will make it right for them
Someday.
Only moments ago,
short weeks ago,
a few hours ago,
precious friends near and far tell me of their pain
the torments that tear at their souls
and the hours of
prayer
and the hours of
waiting
and the hours of
wishing
and the hours of
hoping for hope.
My heart weeps in melancholy fervor
and of my inability to make it better.
Of their perfect child who suffered and passed on in so little time.
Of their family who neglects their needs.
Of their chronic illness.
Of their anxiety, of depression
Of their day to day life.
And I have to trust
And have to pray
And have to hope
that God will make it right for them
Someday.
Beautiful poem, Mik.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading Kate <3
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