How does it feel to be unimportant?
ignored, like a ***** cracked clay vase,
or an empty soda can, kicked to the wayside,
or, like dark wastelands, where trees, plants,
crops don’t grow, where water doesn’t flow,
they’re like eyes that cry without tears...

the world is aware...but, others refuse to see
people from war-torn places...devastated,
with wounded bodies, minds and feelings,
left in dark despondent halls, forgotten...
it takes long to rebuild structures, and futures;
it takes forever to rebuild crumbled faith and
confidence...begging eyes of orphans, of
the homeless, and the hungry, seek light,
but, they only see a dark horizon...

heavy boats sail in the freezing dark,
striving not to be found...uncertain of
safe sails out, yet, taking chances, facing
risks...for new beginnings...where water
meets shore...better to be gone...forgotten,
like embers, left dying through the night, their
ashes blown to oblivion, by gusty morning winds....

the air is filled with Christmas whispers,
muffled voices, only a few could hear....


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December  2, 2019