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A poem on loss of hope. |
| Voices cry in the wilderness The children call for water Thirsty, burning lips wet with dust The sun beats down boulders Where is the relief? Where is help? A drought dries thoughts The wheat is gone, the crops dead. Hope is at the horizon, if they can walk farther, maybe. Who knew that water would fail them? Where is the dark of shade? There is nothing So reach for dry bones. Preserve your withering Life in the laughing wind. |