Friday, February 18, 2011

The Dove Flies High by Jose Pichardo

The Dove Flies High

I was not there to feel your sorrow
To hear family and friends beg for money
I was not there to witness your bitter
To smell the loved ones burning.
I was not there to feel your stomach turning,
To hear your weary cries.
I was not t here to see you reach
For your brother’s hands,
To smell the putrid homes they called shelter.
Is there anyone out there that cares?
Like all of you these forgotten souls
Have dreams to live.
The problem is the perfect world is an imperfect world.
Let’s all make this dream come true :
open your eyes,
look ahead.
The dove flies high.

No comments:

Post a Comment