Posted in General, Poetry, Writing

The Voice

The Voice

By Scott Bailey © 2014

 

There’s a voice I know
From way down deep
Fuelled by wars
That never sleep
It’s warm but still will be
Ever lonely

It sings of thoughts
And curses old
Soothes the weak
And beats the bold
Finds us in our weeping
And our fury

It moves our walls
And wayward paths
Offends our truths
With staggered hearts
Weaves its way into our
Very grieving

I wonder now
At all the cost
And when at last
No wars are lost
Will the voice still find its way
Towards us

Or will will it fall
In silence then
The broken harp
The dried up pen
Or will we hear the whispered
Hallelujah

Hallelujah