Let the hands help the eyes
When you have
Nothing but pair of eyes
With a bag on your back
Of the time that has passed
Filled with seen, read, and felt
Seen the poor with no light in delight
And cruel those who can afford wine
And women are oppressed with punches
Brut are they themselves; with power
Power is a whirlpool; makes crooks
There's nothing you can do
But to face the dark walls
For shouting in silence
And cry and cry
When you know of the age
Of cultures and the faiths
Of axe-cut, forced borders
Of weddings; no consents
Of the jails and mean judge
Of the right working wrong
And the wrong being boss
There's nothing you can do
But to face the dark walls
For shouting in silence
And cry and cry
When you are a photo on paper
And papers are taken
Forced to sit within walls
Told to feel lucky one
'You're here; adore us'
There's nothing you can do
But to face the dark walls
For shouting in silence
And cry and cry
Let the hands help the eyes shed tear with the words.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem