Elahi! Elahi! Lama Sabachthani!

Elahi! Elahi! Lama Sabachthani!

The dark cloud rolled by,
Crying clear teardrops,
Intermittently, like an orphan sobbing,
For its mother in the refugee camp.
Tired lungs, hurting chest and a sore throat,
While eyes hurt from the weeping,
The streak remains where the rivulet ran,
A pale gray ribbon on the earthen brown face.

The earth receives the tears,
While the orphan seeks comfort,
At a crossroad, at noon’s zenith,
On the dark dry breasts of dirt.
Glaring narrowed pupils watch,
With the dryness of a Sahelian day,
Glass eyes capture the scene,
But no one sustains the ebbing life.

Earthen eyes look at the sky,
Elahi! Elahi! Lama Sabachthani! a voice cries,
Winds howl cutting the silence.
Flies the companions of the eyes,
Feast on the salt of the tears,
And probe the bruised fears,
As life ebbs and flows in breaths,
Shallower, shallower, shallower,
And shallower until, they still forever.
Tetelestai!

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