The Valley

A poem reflecting on the death of human emotion and compassion.

The Valley

I walk through a valley that slowly dies, love
Its shadowy inhabitants are a mockery of life
I drift dreamily and hear the angels cry above
They are entrenched in bitterness, struggle, and strife

There was beauty here once before God left
Blues and greens delicately painted the landscape
But iniquity of man burned this land with the theft
Of innocence and decency, twisting it out of shape

I am here yet not here, I am a ghost
What’s left of the valley is cold unfeeling ash
My heart aches for the lost life, it’s what hurts me most
But ask me in ten years time and I won’t bat an eyelash

This dead valley never meant much to me, my dear
It’s the cause of its demise that makes me tear