3rd May For The Third Time

It's the 3rd of May for the third time and
I still have my pen and paper, but with
Empty pages this time.
I know i was raised better, but i wish
I could fake my emotions better.

Yesterday, the world seemed so simple,
There was meaning on earth, a widow's heart
was filled with hope, and children had dreams again.
But today, I walk past the Wall of Remembrance
and the death of the hills pierces
through my skin and i'm angry all over again.

Prescriptions to deal with empty chairs and beds,
Children settling with a distant memory of home,
Prayers lining up at heaven's gate while we're still
knocking on the government's door.
The embers of hope are fading
In the hills with every breaking dawn.

I pass through the graves of the greatest
sons and daughters of our land.
The name of a father who could never
Return home to hold his first-born child,
The name of a mother who put herself last
until her last breath, the name of a child
who never had the chance to see his father's eyes
and sleep with his mother's lullabies.

This old town has changed and I still feel
pangs of survivor's guilt whenever I eat
my mother's home cooked meal and
laugh at my father's jokes.

How could we just go ahead and carry on?
I came by your grave today and brought
Flowers from our forefathers' garden.
Silence is the only love language between us now.
And when dusk arrives, iIll be walking
the longest walk home as I leave with
echoes of your voices coming from six feet under:
"We're just glad you could visit."