“Cry the moon”, I heard her say,
to me this blighted, desolate day,
when time is short and life is old,
when hearts and feelings all run cold.
“Cry the moon”, I heard him say,
our world still stands in disarray.
Who’ll carry you ‘till morning light
and keep you safe throughout the night?
“Cry the moon”, the nations cried,
as thousands more laid down to die,
amidst the bombs and choking tears,
of hate that lasts throughout the years.
“Cry the moon”, the children cried,
and raised their palms to heaven wide,
they pled with God in skies above
to fill our world instead with love.
“Cry the moon”, the heavens played,
a hopeful hymn for those afraid.
When nightly news reports the cries,
and moonshine sweeps across the skies.
“Cry the moon”, the whole world cried,
despite the many who have died.
For we are still one family,
of multicolored ancestry.
So cry the world so all may hear
the plea to make hate disappear,
and make this Earth a better place
where all its people will be safe.
Copy write 1/3/24 by Vicki Kralapp
A commentary on today’s world.