Alway's We Must Forgive .............a poem I wrote back in 2011

http://voices.yahoo.com/always-we-must-forgive-7711804.html?cat=10 Alway's We Must Forgive Midnight cries, echo through the night Silence lingers, echoing forever cutting the blinding light Forever, it seems, is but a span of the hand. Life blooms, life fades, but forever it is held within the hand How soon it is we see the blood that once cried from the depths of the clay covered land Bloody smears, bloody spatters, yet still swiftly flies the sand Amidst the fog, silence emerges holding out a whisper a glimmer that fades as broken ice Words spoken softly, contain edges not so nice Shouting words that fall upon death ears, we see how far fall the spinning dice. Puddles of blood frozen as the mud turns pessimistically to the dreaded ice. Walking on borrowed time, words of the night float on by. Pleading, calling out, no one hears the final deafening cry. How blind we are, as we pass each other by, never stopping once to even say goodbye. In ignorance remaining silent when we could have said hello, said how to you do? Or just a quiet hi, how are you today? Could have, should have, would have it does not matter time it is passed Forever will our memories remain in the distant past? Memories kept close, memories faded, memories unspoken, hidden away. How is it we've entered this disarray? Many pages torn, taped together again, faded in the sunlight, browned with age. How is it the broken clay lets go of the burning rage? Howling, we listen for the echo that tells us we are never alone. Yet, the distance echoes back no voice, not even our own -- Reassuring others, we wait; listen for comforting words of reassurance that never comes our way. All turn away, never seeing the reflection of themselves that are contained within our diminishing eyes, as we quietly turn from the fray. Walking behind, walking ahead, watching, warning, listening for the silent steps of the lion, we hear his roar. How soon it is our assurance stands steady, how now our pen besets the boar. Knowing the past is lost, still we plan. Seeking yet one new day, we walk steady though soon, it is through another distant yet near flooded land. A land filled with casualties we step softly, knowing it is only by grace we are not the same. Wiping away a stray unwanted tear, we remember through it all we still may proclaim His Holy name --