Orchids in the Desert
A poem
A poem
People talking without listening,
people listening but not hearing.
Children born but not living,
alive with no lives.
The deafening roar of silence,
a cacophony of quiet.
Words, sound bytes, assault my ears,
but meaning eludes me.
Invisible and unheard
by those who have lost themselves,
their resilience is humbling,
their courage immense.
With childhood lost,
still, they are the future,
and the past.
Most will succumb,
but those who survive
will be a beacon, to light the way,
like orchids in the desert.