A Mother Roams

A Mother Roams

A mother roams with empty hands, her heart in pieces, barely stands,
through the echoes of distant cries she calls his name beneath war-torn skies.
Each step a prayer as hope defies the darkness that within her lies,
her voice a whisper in the night, a desperate plea in fading light.

In the chaos she takes flight, searching through the endless blight,
the walls of rubble loom so high, reminders of a once bright sky
where laughter turned to hollow sighs and tears are all that’s left to dry.

Through the streets of shattered dreams she wades through silent screams,
her mind a whirl of tortured schemes, searching for the light that shines.
Her heart a compass in the storm, guiding her through paths forlorn,
in every shadow a child’s form, a ghost of what was once reborn.

In the endless search she roams, calling through the wreckage’s loam,
for a voice that’s lost its home, she wanders through the endless foam.
In the silence of her cries she sees him in each child’s eyes,
the endless search where hope still flies through war’s dark and endless lies.