Sometimes I curse this world.
I don’t understand it’s purpose.
Why we’re intent on hurting each other?
Or how we allow suffering to exist.
Children die at our hands,
While we debate the right to help them.
Failing to listen to their concerns,
We proceed blindly with our own agenda.
This world is wounded.
It limbers along in pain daring not to choke.
It fears that it is unwell,
Yet is defiant that it will not pass away.
We must do whatever we can,
To make this world more desirable for our children.
Help make it healthy, so they can breathe easier.
We cannot fail our children or this world.
So, where do I fit in?
Where can my voice be heard and not simply ignored?
Am I strong enough to be heard aloud and so publicly?
No, I guess not. Afraid as always, I remain the silent voice.