Fallen towers lying low
as cries of revenge fill the air
tears soak the ground
heads hang in anguish
as the Mother watches, caring.
Just as a mother lets her children grow
She watches over, caring
a decade passed, what have we learned?
Blood and violence sharing?
Her children war, there is little peace
She whispers softly, "let it go"
to those who would but listen.
Will we mature? Will we know peace?
can we move past the violence?
The Mother's tears keep falling.
Soft and quiet is the call.
The Lady's whispered calling,
the Queen of Heaven beckons all;
to peace and prosperity calling.
If i can but that soft voice heed,
She offers what I am needing
and pushes me along my way.
To help, to love, while going.
And so I live out my life's days,
giving and not yet keeping.
Waiting again to to take Her hand
till night falls ever sleeping.