poem18

Plight of Many

Rain glistening on my window pane,
As it nears the dawn,
Reflecting yellow gold
Of the street lights from below,
She sits here with her head in her hands,
Tears of loneliness run down her face,
As she thinks of her loved one,

In a country far away.
A question from deep down in her soul,
For which there is no answer,
Why dear Lord, must he go,
And leave his family so alone.
This plight they chase after,
For in this land no peace is found,

The hatred strong, and it abounds,
They can not see beyond their fate,
If this keeps up it is too late,
For this must stop, and all it takes,
Is for each country by its gate,
To shake the hand of the foe.
And to say “no more war we’ll ever know”.

Copyright by Helen Hummel August 22, 2001