Posted: February 5, 2016 in Poems

From the fragmented pieces left of life after the catastrophe,

From the broken phrases left of the untold and lost stories,

A new picture is painted, a new form sculpted.

And as the wounds are slowly healed,

As the fragments are slowly made whole,

The whisperers of the forgotten tales came to hope—

Perhaps today would be different, brighter, better.

Perhaps the new image formed will not fade this time,

Perhaps this time the tale being told will get to live through generations.

And the whisperers can only hope fervently.


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