Trouble in this world, a poem

Amy K. Sorrells

I suppose faith would indeed be seen as weak,

those who pity us

who rely on the unseen. For true strength

rises up on the wings of broken

hearts and flesh, invisible,

not because of what we have done but

because of who HE is.

the true

pity is for the ones who do notknow

who cannotseethe goodness

in the land of the living,

who cannot help

but mock and reopen the stripes of the


who died for even them. No

justice comes

from arguing about the shade of red to a blind man.

And so we traipse

on, the bruised and weary land

I love thirsting for the one drink

they refuse to taste.


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