Kindness Cries

Twisted winds encircling hands
Of green wisps and fleshy tones
Forms a figure and graceful shadow.

An image of purple tints aglow
Forms from the lights entoned
To the figure of sights seen alone.

Impressions of slow illusions
Forming from the wreckage
Seen only as time’s relentless wages.

The translucent image wavering
With tears dripping across her visage
As a child young sitting so soundly still.

A choking sob or weak gasp
Echoes across the silent hills
Through the canyons of wars.

Drips with salt onto crayon lines
Drawn across will and testament
Of an age’s remorseless cares.

Her cartoon image is cold and worn
By the running of tearful strains
As off the image, they drip when lifted.

Once in air, burned and charred
By the fires of hell storm’s hands
As weapons and the fury of man.

She cries for her beauty glowing
Blown into the air a floating cloud
Of smoke burnt to a cinder crisp.