On the day this piece was written, the poet woke up with a million questions, yet she chose to pen just a few…

Oh! What happens to the descendants of Cain?
Who wander the world bearing the pain?
What becomes if those who labour in vain?
Against whom the ground is cursed?

What does the future hold for those,
That the world rejected when it chose,
The people to prosper? Why did it close
the doors before time was past?

Why lose a man to his grief?
Why let him weep alone?
Why watch him choose what’s not chief?
The care fellows show!

The ears close to those who cry
Eyes close to those who try
Mouths shut up answer seekers
Hands freeze to those that need help

Great minds die of sorrow
Hope for us burn in self pity
Those who lie carry the day
The sons of Abel are innocent no more

Pain, please take my tears,
To Him who watches over the years
To the lands that know no fears
Tell Him to have pity on me
And keep a small space for me beside the sea