The Fight

In huts of wet mud and clay
Lay children of a broken land
Recounting the many years
of not knowing another way
Except the way of their mothers
And of their fathers before them
Trapped in a kind of dismal life
Left hungry and desperate

In homes of brick and mortar
Sit the kids of breaking hearts
Reliving the lives that were lived
Many times before they did
Fenced in to survive an existence
Dwelling among a land of ruins
Stuck in a world raging around them
Leaving them surviving and fighting

In the land of poverty and shame
Live the anguished and weary ones
Taking what she needs tonight
So she can endure one more time
The abusive hand of a drunken man
Outstretched across her face again
Leaving her wondering once more
how she might end it all this time

In the land of no tomorrows
They live to make it through today
It is found in a daily struggle
Living among survival and ruin
Born in to a battle worn down
Long before they arrived here
Thrown in to a hard struggle
That never lets them get away

Desperation has a way of living
If you have never known hope
For all that has been seen
And known is pain and anguish
It has found the wounded hearts
Of the weary souls gone dry
No dignity found in the struggle
To try and make it one more day

A boy lays his head down tonight
Hoping to survive the brutal darkness
That goes on another day and again
Into a life that he didn’t create
In the midst of the endless chaos
His heart cries out in silent tears
A cry longing for a holy liberation
From all he has continually known


And the fight goes on another day