A very touching poem written by my brother in law
Bring her to life,
The touch of grace that you left behind,
There is still time,
In the city amongst slaughter,
Within the temples of divine power,
She lies bare upon her back,
With a bleeding heart, but who cares?
I saw her walking horrified at night,
With jewels and diamonds dropping from her eyes,
They mocked her crying,
And walked beside her synchronizing,
How her very existence was agonizing,
The whispers in wind keep on shouting;
How the perspiring mother should let her little girl cry,
How the wife should scar her body every night,
How the daughter should let her self subside,
And with every moment that passes by,
Everything gets buried into the invincible grave of time.
But, the night is darkest just before the dawn,
Maybe, we're all wrong.
Perhaps, there is still time,
To earn the grace we left behind,
Ask for forgiveness and we might,
Rewrite those pages that smell of blood,
Those stories of the cursed,
Give her back what's rightfully hers',
And make history a story of us.