For Jermaine, who lost his mother to a battle with cancer, and will have to bury her on New Year’s Eve, two days after his birthday.

Hello, Sorrow, where have you been?
I see your time has come again,
and with it mothers, children weeping
while hate and violence are reaping
and the dreams that we were taught to believe
now deceive
among the days of sorrow.

And when the light of Angels shone
on the refugees of skin and bone
their brethren cried and took them in
and learned to love them once again
And divisions that existed in days of yore
are now no more
among the days of sorrow.

In fishing villages I saw
the frozen hungry, fed and thawed
People loving without knowing
People’s faith now showing
People sharing the things meant to be shared
and that they cared
to ease the days of sorrow.

“Peace,” I cried,
surely you know, ignorance feeds and hatred grows.
There is more to me than you can see
just learn to love and let it be.”
But the bullets, through the bodies, stole the lives,
and we just sigh
among the days of sorrow.

And the Children of the Books, they prayed
for only their faithful to be saved.
And the plight of the Others on which they trod,
they could take up with their God.
While the tears like rain fall all around 
and make no sound
But the cries of the living
come from o’er the world, and echo in the sky
and still we die
among the days of sorrow.

M. Zane McClellan

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