Spirit Walk

November 6, 2008
By Menahem Rapoport, Stamford, CT

Blood shed, bodies hopeless. Nothing left but a poor thought, an action chosen by which they hoped. This world, which believed to be freedom, a world of peace and sanctity. Yet the power of fear and hope entangle their minds. Hatred guiding their thoughts blinded by true feelings, yet light still struggles to escape from the clouds of hatred. With the true mind, they fight for what’s right. Confused, not understanding, these ferocious fighters search for that one true meaning. Their lives played as though it was written by god. Only one road truly reveals itself. Mysterious chapters fill these so called pages, not one being capable to fully understand.

For now only one world can sustain my essence, a dark and hopeless world, which light is feared of its return. Yet, slowly the light emerges from cracks beneath the walls, people still fear the aftermath. But when there is a purpose to fight and there is a man who is willing. Light shall always slip through the knots of its enemies. Slipping through the wrath of evil, light slowly cries its dreaded thoughts yet to return to its true position.

The author's comments:
This poem was written about a friend of mine whos father was fighting...
This is one of the first poems I wrote about Iraq.

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This article has 1 comment.

writertoo said...
on Apr. 20 2009 at 2:42 am
good job!

one comment

when you write "Their lives played as though it was written by god" it should be "they" not "it" - lives is plural.



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