I never sleep well when others are wrecked.
Half-awake in my dreams, my blessed life sealed,
Not a victim of history’s fate or neglect.
Divine will, a remnant, he lived to see the light.
Through perished skeletons, ashes of those who once stood proud,
he endured the torment to pen the “Night”.
Echoed words of wisdom from years of anguish
The souls he knew, seeds unsewn,
swallowed by the hollowed abyss where forever they languish.
Hallowed be their names, loved ones so cherished.
Vanished into vapors of grim darkness,
six million perished.
But the sun would shine again for those victims of history's fate.
Their seeds now trees of spirits unextinguished,
not forgotten by the earth from where they originate.
So, as I ruminate, blistering thoughts resonate.
I know that only time and place have sealed my blessed fate,
from the perils of indifference and hate
ever failing to abate.
Copyright © Stacy Karron | Year Posted 2019