I’m a feather in the face of a hurricane,
I’m sinking in the seas of sorrow,
Each moment I go deeper and the pressure builds,
Trying to tame my fragile yacht,
Spinning in the vast Atlantic storms,
I’m standing on the edge of a ghost town,
The dust storm careens toward me,
I can almost feel the impact before it hits,
The suffering of strangers is heavy,
I try to pick up the slighted children,
But my arms are filled and I drop them,
Our hearts cannot withstand the breaking waves of injustice,
The downpour of tears flood our towns and sweep away our homes,
Who can hold all the cares of the world?
Who is greater than the hateful hurricane?
Is there a fortress that is stable in the tireless tide?
You have not called and commissioned,
A child to swim in Poseidon’s hands,
You are the boat in which we sail,
The seas of sorrows,
You hold the slighted children and there is room left for me,