| Wednesday, June 2nd, 2004 : 4:43 a.m. pdt |
poetry
by Michael F. Nyiri
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copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri ElectricPoetry AllThingsMike |
Wednesday, June 2nd, 2004 : 4:43 a.m. pdt
"Pendulum Swing Back Again, and the Questions Burn Deep on My Soul"
How is it that I can hoarde so much when others they have naught?
Who allows me to feel at all happy, when with pain those lives are
fraught?
When I view a subtle sunset, or a glimpse of God's good graces
How can I really ecstatic be, seeing grief on humanity's faces?When will the day come to proclaim positive news, for faraway cities
in pain
Najaf, Madrid, Riyadh, and Karachi. Kufa, and Gaza 'Tis plain
To see that each day I'm allowed to review, the deeper in thought I
shall ponder
Still happiness wells in my heart, and this hurts, and serves as a
depressing reminder.One soul is another, another, another, souls so linked by cosmic
decree
Yet I cannot reach out, and it leaves me no doubt, I have eyes but I
just cannot see.
I do have my problems, but my problems are few, when compared to such
hunger and blight
And I reach out to touch, with my words, seeming such, but still
haven't been granted the sight.When will the morning dawn brighter for them, as it always dawns
bright for my soul?
When I learn of the suffering many, why was I fated to feel so damn
whole?
Is this what life teaches, have I yet been taught, do I know what is
happening now?
Bombs and blighted burdens, tear through this pained world, nothing
is seeming to grow.Except suffering, savageness, stark sullen agony, people who cry with
no tears
Small hopeless children, and Earthmother women, who live day to day
with their fears
Yet the day dawns too bright for me, too bright to see, and this
blinds my understanding
I shall never have the eyes to see. Is the world's hurt an ironic
grand planning?I am deep in depression this morning, my friends, but this feeling
shall soon go away,
On the other side of the world, or perhaps down the street,
depression holds sway every day
My words are but swords cutting deep in the wound, and I want to give
back something more
I can rend at my clothes, flail my skin in disgust, but nothing seems
stopping this war.I must be to blame for the world's pitiful slide, this must be my
pitiful fault
Each morn I am happy, filled with passion and beauty, while the slide
just seems never to halt.
I look up at the clouds, and feel glad I'm alive, then I think of the
others, and frown,
If we are soul brothers joined fast with our God, why do I feel like
I'm letting Him down?I will pray, I will fast, I will give all I can, to the sick and
downtrodden and lame,
But no matter what happen's this sick sodden feeling gives birth to a
fulsome lost blame.
This morning is beautiful, God's painting in Heaven, and hope will
shine through with the sun,
But depression shall last, no one learns from the past, and my
feelings are easily undone.
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
ElectricPoetry
AllThingsMike