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Her Voice
i believe there is a God
i can hear her voice
in the tears of the homeless
of the hungry, of orphaned children
of the young woman lying on the
kitchen floor bleeding
in the hollow ache of the young
man who just killed a family
with his M-16
in the stink of helpless
on the young boy raped
in the prison cell
in the vomiting anger
of the man who caught his wife
cheating, and shot her
in the prayers of the mother
whose son joined a gang,
and walked away from her dreams
in the cry of the baby
left in the alley
behind the church
that refused to help
his mother
in the pen on the desk
of the man at the bank
who just foreclosed
on another family
i can hear her voice
and feel her hurt!
poem
by
Eric Cockrell
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