When the soul battles each day to survive,
A slip into darkness may seem inevitable,
The numbness of relinquishing morals,
And doing whatever it takes to survive.
There is a saying amongst the women of Yemen,
“Death will come tomorrow.”
And accepting this frees many from what is beyond their control.
In a place where wealth is measured in faith,
Where hope is their most precious currency.
Plights old as time
Origins of man
A plague from the heavens
When angels smote each other
And violence was given life
Is war a gene born in all mankind
An instinct that needs only a trigger
Are those who stay true the strongest of all
Mothers who take each child as their own
Children who love in times of hate
And men with only one choice
To defend family
When will karma come?
Where is justice?
For how long
Yemen is home to the world’s worst humanitarian crisis,
I’m sharing a link to the UNICEF donor page;
Please click, verify, and do what you can.
For poetry lovers, an etheree is a poem with a syllabic meter of (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10).
I wrote two that mirror each other in their shape, one being reversed.
I hope you enjoy this, and that it moves you.