I beg you for a moment of sweet solace despite the rushing sensation of my own nauseousness.
Won't you listen to the women,
Who are crying?
Good Lord, please, they are dying.
Please just listen to the people,
As we shudder and cover them with shame and sinful eyes from the church steeple.
Listen to their silence,
It is crushing,
Like faith-driven compliance,
To the impending of descending sound written in shivering and wind rushing.
Listen to the people all crying alone again,
Their cries cannot be heard by either an ignorant crowned crowd or an indifferent heaven.
Listen to their silence,
Draped and dripping over plates and onto us,
The silence of wounds unyielded after such violence,
Draped over with the sinful eyes of their lord's righteousness,
Is this really right for us?
What in god's name has become of us?
Draped over with the sin of being people and women.
-end-
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-In light of recent events, please stand with and listen to Iranian women who are going through hell right now. Human rights should never be ignored.-
YOU ARE READING
-Good Morning, Stranger-
PoetryThey sound like such simple words, But they cut into me so. Such simple places, But they all seem to move so slow. Maybe if I were a lover, I could make it freeze up in summer, So I won't have to forget, The way you and I would hold each other as we...
