Her Cries

She is crying

A bride who should be with a pride
Is murdered by her children; she cried
They not know; can't have the cold breeze
Where it is free of trees
Her tears, the long flowing rivers
She cries with sorrow, pain and shiver
Her attempts, the tall mountains
All faded human hearts, as a water fountain

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

This poem I feel speaks to me on so many levels. And I am moved by it. Thank you for your art.