HEAR MY CRY

Written by: Cyndi MacMillan

Ashes weep while tiny shadows reach for a shattered hourglass,
for I was ready for the moon's full weight, but never for the death
of my child who now gathers dying stars, she who deserved 

a chance to sigh on far shores. I rage for each milestone denied,
the childhood dreams now buried and the snuffing of her verve,
a stolen providence. Children should never lie beneath grass

or tremble as night drops like a tarp nor should they be witness
to mankind’s arrogance. We have failed this final, frail generation,
we who ignored long-starving nations as they buried their young.

I am the dust upon your feet, returned to my origins, but if you 
press your ears to tainted soil, you will hear hymns left unsung.
Forgive our mess, learn from the infinite sins we now confess.

Humanity was inhuman. We refused to listen and looked the other
way. People were ruled by jealousy, wariness, terror and worst
of all, cruelty. Kindness lost priority, and we cast aside our brother.   

So, love as though each were your own, open yourselves to truth,
share your hearts fearlessly, consume as little as you can, give more
than you receive, shun wealth, embrace family and turn foe to friend.

Peace would have made a difference; what would have happened
if we had embraced the world with compassion, taught acceptance 
and erased all traces of prejudice, hatred, oppression and ruthlessness?

Oh, stranger, please, I beg you to pay heed, our demise tells a tale and 
though the future bears no responsibility, hear my cry, an urgent echo:

we sacrificed our own sons and daughters on an alter known as greed.