Streetwalkers
The grieved lived
and the joyous died.
The streetwalkers burn
tireless in their death.
The children came needing
every hour
so many had left their mother's arms;
left there at the grave.
Hearts full of fire
black and charred,
they lay on
a cold stone
their tears engraved.
Church singers sang
when the darkness began,
It all kindled into black,
a star was broken.
No magic or miracle
can atone.
Forgive us forgive
or give us,
we want death
that they might live again.
I might believe,
if only I could hold them now.
I might not fall apart,
I might want to live again.
The sun will rise,
the birds will sing,
the wind will blow,
but death quiets them all
the whole earth is in a still.
Can't you see?
Where is the supreme light?
Where is the logic
that makes this right?
