When the wrongs overwhelm,
my heart sinks and frowns.
Beneath the layered memoirs,
It sinks deep and drowns.
Then I want silence
and I don\'t speak.
Its muffled beatings
make me feel weak.
Cracks in the soil
beneath my feet,
are weary of waiting
flowing water so sweet.
One more word
and it would matter.
to hold’em on or shatter
blowing them up in a big crater.
The reservoir of tears
filled over a million years.
The dam of patience quivers
letting out the flooding rivers.
Cracks in the soil
beneath my feet
feel the joy,
a beating retreat.
Retreating past wrongs
make way for a new song.
A song for the new innings,
in the hope for new beginnings.
The dream of the soil
murmurs this beautiful song.
The winds pick it up
and blow it along.
Oh this blowing wind in my hair
gives me my best song.
To roam like a wanderer
and happily go home.