The day, as it began
Showed no promise to be different,
The oppressed, ill fated souls watched
Another sun rising from the east,
Tearing up the darkness,
Little they knew-
It, for once, was meant to be destiny.
The guns never gave up
With mere glimpses of hope,
The never ending attempt
Was falling apart,
When completely lifeless objects
Choked in hunger,
The stir spread like fire and swept everything on its way;
No one cried from
Anguish, loss or disillusionment
Tears spilled in joy
When the years of servitude
Was beginning to end.
The day was different
Who lived to see the end of it.
I am linking this poem to Dversepoets OpenLinkNight, Week 45. You can also participate every Tuesdays, 3 PM EST and read some wonderful poetry.