How many young women have to die?How many mothers have to cry?
While those in charge turn a blind eye
At the blood and the violence,
the lives lost and the hate,
how many more hearts
will stop beating as we wait?
There is a garden full of nameless,
that have been hastily plucked and pushed aside,
leaving not a trace of their warmth, their beauty, their stolen grace.
Over this garden the sun rises and falls
And in the still moonlight the forgotten flowers whisper their calls;
"Don't forget us", "Remember me"," Please"
With Love and Remembrance, Always
June 30, 2009