The wind blows,
more fierce than before,
carrying the whispers,
the cries,
of those forgotten,
of those lost,
The rain falls,
colder now than before,
made of tears shed,
by mothers and fathers,
sons and daughters,
taken unwillingly into the darkness.
Copyright 2009 Celia Delk
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem