Liberty

A poem about justice and loss of hope.

Down every corner 

Ask every darkened frame

To sit down and stay awhile 

And ask it what's its name

For some it's been a thousand years 

For others just a day 

That they've roamed the halls

And the cathedral 

When everyone's asleep 

Praying day and night to the Madonna 

Asking the same foreboding question 

Over, and over, and over again

Turning in their minds like a spinning top

And never knowing when,

Never knowing when the day will come

The day that they'll be paid 

For all their toil and labor 

And all the breath they gave away

Will justice every truly come for the one who lies beneath the moon,

High above his head,

Praying that there will be a day 

When the world will mourn for the blood spilled on the bed

Men may never know the grief within his heart, 

Aching violently within
But as the bluebird sings, so shall your song be heard

For there is not a cry in the world that the skies don't listen still,

There in the gaping silence,

The stars will shine on you

Forever knowing every song that you sang to them, and every lonely prayer

They will hold the truth 

And the justice has been served

In the gentle love they give to you.