The City

The burden is steady. The city is weary. We walk on thin ice and spread our wings even though we are teary eyed. We want to be filled with hope. So in hopes that we can be someone. We wrap our hearts in clothes hailing from every country that can see the sun. Every language that gives voice is heard through the streets beats that are louder than the thunder. Rhythms that flow stronger than the flood waters that threaten the weak and make even the strong run to their mother.

Lover of all we stand alone with our arms opened wide, knowing the water will reside only within its limits one day. That the power will return, come what may. We are the strength of the weak. The light seems bleak and flickers off for a week. We seek shelter in the deep with those that are ready to speak

about truth

about freedom

about love

about growth

ready to speak about giving a voice of freedom to the meek.