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"
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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