When the Soul Cried Out for Meaning
Like a boat on high waves after the sun has set. I stand in the darkness, with fears I can’t forget.
The storm may be raging, the night may be long. But faith is my anchor, and hope is my song.
Hold on tight, let courage rise. Dreams are born beneath darkened skies.
One more wave, one more fight. The dawn will come, bringing light.
As fireworks ignite across the skies. My heart still aches and softly cries.
I love you, I miss you. This much is true. No lies are spoken, only thoughts of you.
I want to amaze you, like a thunderstorm above.
I want you to thank God for the birth of our love.
Your kiss I treasure, Your body I’ll caress,
But it’s your soul that He will bless.
They sit laughing in halls of shamed stone,
In a lust for power, stroking bone.
Feeding on the innocent, far right good to blame,
cloaking their hunger, with honours to name.
Trample their own, rake in the gain,
while the working class are buried in pain.
Their loathing lands with their word, their law.
We must challenge what we heard and saw.
The people toil - the governors command,
Inside his velvet glove - an iron hand.
Power built on a foreign fractured trust,
with fear, with loathing, with a perverted lust.
This our kingdom, built on hallowed ground,
Unite The Kingdom, streets must pound.
For every tower raised by greed,
Shall one fine day - bow to truth indeed.
The scales tipped before the start,
Metal on wrists, the slowing of a heart.
Truth stood silent, bleeding bare,
While power ruled without a care.
Yet wrong, however strong it seems,
Cannot forever bury dreams.
For justice walks a slower way,
But dawn will follow this dark day.
Under the sun in the big blue sky.
I earn a quid as the rays blaze by.
Sweat on me fod – dirt on my hands.
Working outside as the sun cracks the land.
Beating hard but still I stay.
For my family – all bastad day.
Some names fade like footprints in the rain.
once dear to the heart, now hard to explain.
Faces grow distant, voices grow thin,
lost to the silence where memories dim.
Such is the way, a tear drop to the sea.
Drifting - even from memory.
But you, you not.
Never I guess, to be forgot.
They gave me breath - then poisoned the air.
Life confusing - mind a blur.
Shadows breathing in a cold dark house.
My life - in flames I wish to douse.
All alone with their choices.
In my head - I hear their voices.
Before the icons’ candle glow,
A father stands in silent woe.
His wife and children sleep above
While islam chokes the land he love.
He does not long for war or blood,
Only peace, and a promised bud.
Yet still he keeps the rifle near,
For darker days are drawing here.
He prays with tears, “Lord, keep me right.
If I must stand, then let me fight
Without hatred in my soul —
Let your mercy remain unstole.”
And though he trembles at what may come,
He knows his boys to men become.
So he kneels beneath the saints and flame,
Wanting his sons to remember his name —
Not as a man who loved the fight,
But one who stood for Christ and light.
If you could see what grace descends during the liturgy in church, you would gather the dust and wash your face with it.
Saint Gabriel of Georgia
Smith Shine Poetry