HISTORY'S ABUSED
by Teresita Perez
If I could reach through the ages
of decades long past and gone,
I would touch its classic pages
bringing to your life my song.
My soul knotted as you wept
amid the darkness of scorn,
tortured humans that were kept
with hearts broken, scarred and torn.
Though impacted, I'm impotent
to help you now that you've died.
Only your memory is latent
as I grasp your bitter cry.
Then my mind receives a blow,
the moral of it so stern:
"Honor the humans you know,
for here's a lesson to learn.
"Those who love you, recognize;
kindness be your attitude.
Offer smiles, kind words, be nice;
for their love show gratitude.
"Let others' ill fate refine you,
tenderness flow from your heart.
Succumb to God Who'll define you
as balm, not as poisoned dart.
"Then your faith won't be in vain;
your goodwill: eternal fountain
that kills rage and strangles pain.
Crush your temper's wicked mountain.
"Enough of being a slave
while your enemy's amused.
It's time to be sober, brave.
He will use you to abuse,
"and merely make you his loot,
hostage, clone, pitiful fool.
Atop your will is his foot.
He's the master. You're his stool.
"He hates you, like all those beating
men's spirits, without compassion.
In hell their fate they were sealing,
yielding to their evil passions.
"Yet your heart conceived the need
of persons you couldn't know.
That proves in you there's a seed
of love that can sprout and grow.
"So be brave. Let mercy shine
as you are turned into leaven
so others taste the Divine
while you for them reflect heaven."
Copyright © 2004, 2020 to Teresita Perez
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