These Are the Days
The days when the news show a ten year old walking
for miles in the sun with a pot on her head,
or rows of sad mothers,where nobody's talking
as one sits in a corner and cradles her dead.
These are the days when I check my loose money,
and though there's so little, I'm a Millionaire,
a loaf and some butter, my day is more sunny
than those in the shade with no food over there.
The days when I hear of an active volcano
fumes lethal to breathe, burning ash raining down,
what Dante's inferno is like only they know
as hot lava consumes every village and town.
These are the days when the things that need tending,
the grass may need cutting or branches, too long
are not all that important, far off lives are ending,
no flowers there blossom, no distant birdsong.
The days when we stand for a two minute silence
for those people whose lives were snuffed out on our streets
by misguided extremists whose language of violence
is snuffed out by the love of those they can't defeat.
These are the days when I kneel, speak and listen
to he who is waiting to answer my call
and though bottom lip trembles and eyes start to glisten
by my faith I know this world can get through it all.
For contest 'These are the days', sponsor Daniel Turner
June 5th 2018
Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2018
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