Why can’t tears wash away sadness? What gain is there by mourning? If we live only for our lives to be stolen away, why do we live at all?
The sun has not cared for us, it scorches with a beauty that blinds; it cannot thaw the icy hearts that break our hearts of stone. Can we find help in the moon, pregnant with the dreams of children—will they ever be born?
Like a tree falling in the wilderness, with no one to hear, will our cries reach your ears, O stars? Can you hear those who howl before you, O moon? When our lives have been blotted out and our bodies are no more, will you look and ask where we have gone?
Perhaps someday, when lullabies become death chants; when cradles become caskets; when playgrounds become graveyards, and sketches in the bark of trees instead become tombstones; then perhaps you will hear and turn your gaze upon us in this prison of tears.
Lift us up when you have grown tired of our suffering; heal our wounds when you have cried for our torture. When this world closes up and we fade away like the setting sun, don’t forget what we were, who we would have been, but remember, not because we were, but because we are no more. Then, let not a thought pass through your mind without the cry of a child still lingering, still untended to. We may ask, but in truth, we know not to whom we speak, and perhaps never will.
This is from one of the novels I am in the process of writing. Taking place in a future world, it is a song, the cry, of a people taken over by an upper-class, who use them for experimentation and free labour. If you liked it, I would really like some feedback! Maybe follow me too?
Thank you for reading 🙂