I watched them fall like scattered rain,
Faces all etched with pain.
Guns were raised, and hearts were numb
The war played on like a broken drum.
Smoke above, and blood below,
and I kept asking, “What do we know?”
Is this the end? Is this the way?
To fight, to die, to fade away?
But in the rubble, I found more
a different pull, a different war.
Not for land, nor leaving breath
but for the souls outpacing death.
So now I stand, not with a blade,
but with a hope that doesn’t fade.
I fight with faith and with grace.
For light. For love. For a better place.
Poem by: Abigail Blessan
