There was a hush amongst the roaring crowd
The roaring, grieving crowd of men and women;
Who were the children of that violent past,
Which maimed the beauty of humanity

Though they have long since grown
Into those sturdy yet feeble frames which,
At every waking moment remembered
The silence of the world

And even as they are finally put at some sort of ease
As victims and as warriors who fought long and hard
Triumphing over that murky past
Which drove like razor blades across fresh skin

In their ever lucid minds
With the thought that
Tomorrow wasn’t promised and
This may be the end



They hope to leave their memory in the wake
Of a future of children who may see with their own fresh gems
The stories whispered by weary eyes
And spoken by hushed ears – devastated
Because of who they are

And if by a chance in the deepest parts of the sky
The one that rests above every human being in the world
The same sky that covers
Your parents and friends, colleagues and teachers, rivals and enemies

A new age will be born from the memory of the past
-- Their past --
So that history may never repeat itself
Ever again