And there are no cries
beyond the usual tone
on the call with her mother.
Occasionally, there are tears
and vain attempts
to chip away sadness
into an invisible form.
Years, they harden.
In love and in hate.
They give way to children.
Growing symbols of stifled freedoms.
They are loved and cared for
as an escape from the routine
and in a hope for change.
5 comments:
"Growing symbols of stifled freedoms" is a heart-wrenching way to describe children! Gave me lots to think about there...
@ Danielle
Thank you. I hope you enjoyed stumbling here.
glad to be here...
fabulous work.
share your poetry with us starting Sunday, 8pm, American central..
we are open until Wednesday, 8pm
@Jingle Poetry
Thanks!
Is it an online sharing platform?
Loved the last three lines, perfect portrayal of a harsh reality !
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