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Cry Aloud
A voice said, 'Cry aloud! '
and I said, “But what shall I cry? ”
Shall I sing to the people
a song of spring,
hills aflame with green,
dry grass igniting
with joy?
In darker days,
when the high meadow fell fallow
and flowers of the valley
dried to dust,
I thought you'd turned
away, took your giving hands
to other lands.
Despairing, I wept,
stung by tears
from angry Hell,
and doubted
your love.
Oh, forgive me, pity your child
and make your enduring rain fall
on the riotous grass,
on the bold crocus
and passionate
rose.
poem
by
Steven Federle
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