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If we could hear the silent cries
Of all those gentle people
Who suffer and struggle
With starvation, and poverty, and violence...
As we drive past them on the streets...
If we could hear the echo of their pain...
The twists and dull aches of agony
Like radio interference
Breaking through the yowling...
Breaking through the party
That blares away through our car speakers...
When we watch the evening news...
And hear stories of politics and economies...
As we catch up on the weather and sports reports...
Do we hear the noise outside our doors...
Of desperation and hopelessness...
From those who have no home?
We surround ourselves with luxuries...
Oh, yes, we do...
Our money has gone for things we never use...
For clothes we never wear...
For appliances we never pull out...
In lesser degrees... and in greater degrees...
We surround ourselves with things
That we really do not need...
Which... impact in no great way
Our survival on this earth.
And there...
Across the world...
In a small forest village...
On a desert plain...
In the heart of a huge city...
Silent cries... arise with the sun.
A baby... does not eat.
A child... does not wash.
A mother... does not cook.
A father... leaves to cover his shame.
And all sink together
In the hopelessness of nothing...
Where their feet are entrapped
In a living death
That has no relief and no end.
Do we hear the silent cries...
Of life... dying all around us?
Do we hear the bitter cries...
As sickness and starvation
Claims... another child...
Someone else's child?
Far, far away?
When I see luxury...
I see the faces of the mothers
Of those dying children.
When I see extravagance...
I see filthy water
And children scavenging city dumps.
When I see celebrations and hooplas
I see those who live their lives
Without... even a dream...
Or a hope.
When I see fashion and jewelry
I think... what life might have been rescued
With just a part of that cost.
I hear those cries
The cries of those who suffer...
I hear them everywhere...
I think of the excuses...
Why those cries are never answered...
And wonder how I would explain it...
To the mother
Who watches her baby
Die in her arms.
And when that baby dies...
So does a part of our own humanity...
Part of our own claim
That we... are human.
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