Wounding words repeat their funeral dirge,
Saying my life is worthless to grander plans,
Stories abound that seek to disguise,
The sounds of hate resounding,
A continual drone of death words,
Seeking only to open the gaping wounds,
Brought by despair’s lashing remarks,
Missing the beauty that always resides,
In each of creation’s opportunities,
That belongs to everyone’s humanity.
Opportunity is passed by in the rush,
Discarded in each drowning cry,
Each sound heard by deaf ears that don’t listen,
Not recognising the gift given in hope of love,
Opportunity closed by hate’s blindness.
Then in the midst of my deepest despair,
Opened a path that always was there,
God looks at a the wounds born from hate,
And sees the way that leads to hope,
That place that listens to my sad song,
And, tells me child it’s here you belong,
From this safe place I can begin to listen,
To the words of potential that lives in me,
Instead of death I can believe in opportunity.