To all those suffering in Darfur This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By
     We cannot raise the dead, my daughter,
Love again is far,
Forage not in all the wreckage,
dry your tears again.
So raise your head, my daughter,
and walk with me again.
Through this murder may your spirit rise
As though an angel here
Could appear, appear an angel dear.
For you, my daughter, are mine.
Cannot we feel the blood she cries,
The soul that weeps so cold?
Ignore her purpose and let her die.
Good, my daughter, say good-bye.
To all the love your family had,
For ours has gone away.
The tears you weep in vain,
My daughter,
The tears you weep are lost.
Raise your head, my precious daughter now,
For help has come our way.
Though the help they give,
the help they have,
Is far too late, my daughter
My daughter, you have seen the cold,
Watched your mother fade away.
The glimmer in her eyes,
The emptiness we cannot disguise,
The murder you have felt.
Try, try, my daughter, try again,
To once again love another,
Though haunted nights pass slowly now
And leave you cold and lost,
May love again give you a meaning
When all you’ve known is pain.
Yes, yes, my daughter, lie down again,
For you have met your end.


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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Alli_Rose said...
Jul. 23, 2010 at 11:03 pm
This is intense. So very true. i feel i can realte!
 
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