Smudges

  Forgotten memories are the nightmares we share
And we write them all off with a silent prayer.
The words, we know have been written.
And the pictures, we know have been drawn.
These are their pleas against a blood red dawn.
Have the existing every stopped to think,
"What of the forgotten, the invisible ink?
The sick and dieing?
The lonely and crying?
The bloody and bleeding?
The screaming and pleading?"

Dreams painted red leave reminiscent lies
Like a mother watching as her new born dies.
Or the brother watching his sister fall to her knees
Held at bay by arms that laugh at his pleas.
Can you not see her pain filled eyes set agleam?
Or his small lips strained in a silent scream?
What of the mother and father massacred in their home,
Sentencing their children to an aimless roam?
Can you not hear the screams that choke the child?
Their voices mangled into inhuman sounds, eyes wild?

Every slash of a knife
Matches the smudge of a pen, 
And one more child is forgotten


Comments:
 
lindsay   lindsay wrote
on 10/16/2008 1:42:16 AM
Very impactful. Your words are strong and powerful. This will resonate with a reader far after the eyes leave the page.

raven_ink
Poetry
Other
writing raven_ink
Feel the fear, and do it anyway because even though it's not too late, one day, it will be.

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Synopsis
A poem for thie invisible children (the organization) and every one else affected by the horrific happenings in Africa. These are the people that need more than just a few prayers.
Published Date
10/14/2008 12:00:00 AM
Published In
allpoetry.com
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