The gates of death sounded ten beats
On this rainy morning ...
The glory of life, ceased
It is just a wet blanket in the wind ...
Dry the tears that fall in abundance
Desperated, wipe your tears ...
Silent, hear voices that beg
and have not left ...
Drawing the hands to the heavens
May your new permanent address
By hope, keep on a bed of eternal peace ...
(Joyce Martins)
