I Hear the Cry

By: Joyce Johnson I hear the awful, mournful sound coming from the hills around as if all mothers on the Earth at same time were giving birth. The cry a low and doleful moan for world’s disasters to atone. The hills reverberate with sorrow and deathly fear of the tomorrow. Babies dying from a famine, mankind must stop to examine how to redistribute wealth, bring all nations back to health. Money spent to feed the war could have gone to feed the poor. We can never still the cry, when the weak are left to die. Michael's contest "Sounds of a Cry"