Come,

She dragged her bags;

Carried it in the desolate desert

And was carried like rags.



Look,

She sleeps in a chilling wind of dirt.

Since then cruelty was bestowed upon her birth,

There she lays shaking in hunger in a cold holy earth





Hear,

She sobs in misery.

Her eyes are fresh with tears of agony,

But she was there---alone---in her last gasp of bravery.



Touch,

She shivers in starvation

When she thinks she has no place in this nation,

She doesn’t care---even her sanitation.



Think,

Her solemn eyes seeking us in help

Even the simple things she really wants,

A helpful hand like blessing she needs for months.



Feel,

She was tossed in the waves of riches,

Beaten by a sting of life’s stitches.

She was like a ball---whole---even she was hit by multiple pitches.



Soon,

In her torturous resemblance of a new moon---

Dark,

Lifeless,

Cold,

Whole

…yet there is beauty,

In the midst of her inequality.



Soon,

She will realize that she was going back

To the ground and grave thus she packs.



Soon,

Her head were resting in a mighty rock,

There she would have her farewell and her sweet comeback.



She would die,

But there was nothing

Even an eye to see,

The things she have in misery…



Soon…



She would die.



Rest...



Soon…















[J O E S H U A copyright 09]