Nothing Holy

Roads lined, oh but not with gold,
and there was nothing holy about the
agony in their hearts, or the emptiness
on their faces and the darkness in their eyes-

Flowers; Beautiful flowers, all in stunning colors
that should have been outlining gardens of kings and
queens, yet this day they soaked only the sadness, of
the loved ones left and forced to go forward alone-

There was nothing holy, as the day's sunset faded into
night, as a Mother lay holding her confused child in her arms;
Knowing the only thing left of her Father, was the scent on his pillow, and
the clothes hanging carelessly in the closet-

There were tender touches, from family, friends and strangers, but
they were not his; There were prayers, but they weren't from his
lips, in his voice- There was cards and letters, but they weren't signed
in his almost unreadable handwriting- So none of them were holy, oh
not in her mind-

She knew there was war, and it was not holy, no matter who said
it was-
She knew there was death; and it was not holy; It was just final.

© Lisa Hilbers
2/22/2006