The Lost Ones

Who are these

that never find their way;

a woman wanders fear-filled hills,

her teardrops bruise the beaten path,

wind's skirt of blue, blows fate's fist past.

Who are these lonely, quiet souls?

Who are these scared and lonely souls?

They touch each path but, always wait,

for hesitation knows though still,

all things might shift their shape at will.

Night's hallways walk

Hell's memories past,

a sleepless girl-- her eyes on lock,

to stare beyond what she can't stop.

Who are the ones now suffering

for what was done to them?

What will become of those He's doomed?

forgotten by God's blessed eye,

young hands reached clean,

blind river's rush- cruel worlds of war

flood fields rot-red.

A soldier's fire, a child is dead,

he holds her in his arms and cries.

The scourge of man, his hands, his lies.

Those souls life's broken, tell me, why?