The Cry Poem by Juan Olivarez

From high up on a branch,
Of a giant oak tree.
A white winged dove,
Called down to me.
The sorrowful cry,
Came down from above,
The mournful lost cry,
Of the white winged dove.

I'm lost and my heart,
Is broken you see,
For the one that I love,
Was taken from me.
God brought us together,
Man tore us apart,
And that is the reason,
You see that my heart,
Is bleeding and broken,
And shall nevermore,
Embrace my true love,
And it is therefore,
That I cry out my sorrow,
From high in this tree.
Waiting for death,
To set my soul free.

If perchance, on your path,
You happen to find.
A white winged dove,
One of my kind.
And you hear the call,
Of the lost and forlorn.
So that in your own heart,
You at last start to mourn.
You'll see how that heart,
Is broken like mine,
And that is the reason,
We'll cry for all time.
We'll cry for the lost,
We'll cry for the land.
And yes in our hearts,
We'll cry even for man.

6/2003 Alton Texas