My People

Shattered fragments of a soul,
Float around the midst of a whole.
It's then one knows what complete means,
A collage of vibrant beautiful dreams.

Broken earth and the brook runs by.
Catchments of a life eroded.
Memories of a nation proud,
Nothing remains, broken people it's token.

Wandering...floating..A sense of longing.
Existing yet non-existing,
Living among the barely conscious,
Neither dead yet neither living.

We need a voice that will sound our thoughts.
A hand to raise us from the depths of despair.
A touch that elevates a spirit faltering,
A smile to lighten blemished days.