i hear cries
the cries of children
i cannot see them but i know
those hefty tears are there to stay
frozen in mid-air, frozen in helplessness
in hopelessness and in utter fiery despair
for we grown ups have chosen to be quiet
yet once again, numb, deaf and delusional
so delusional that we wake up
every single day
to the comfort and convenience
of our petty lives
lives so petty that we insist
to insist on and on
not to care, not to think,
not to sense, not to feel
all along dismissing
what stirs up deep inside
our consciousness,
our gut instincts,
our compassion,
our original purpose: to love,
to love them all
“why?” asks one of those icons of innocence
“what have I done to deserve this fate?”
not in words, as not all know
how to speak yet
their eyes say it all,
eyes filled with salty drops
instead of tummy-giggles,
instead of daily, nightly jumps of joy,
instead of cushioned care-free slumbers,
instead of the tender safety
of love’s embrace
“why?”
why are there so many cries?
(c) hülya n. yılmaz, May 30, 2019
hülyaswritings 