Penhead Press: Friday's Children by Afzal Moolla

beneath the waning moon,

streaks of drying tears,

whisper away all your fears.

May your mornings to come be peaceful,

may the coming days be filled with light,

may what has passed be in the past,

so that the future may have brighter moments that may last.

In silences filled with reflection,

your thoughts may linger back,

to times that were harsh,

but,

may your heart always guide you,

away from memories so blue.

And when you find your feet again,

when you walk tall once more,

keep your soul and nourish it well,

and if the past rears its poisoned self,

be brave and tell them all to go to hell.

Because,

you are worthy of so much better,

without the feelings of being beat down,

And

you're exhausted of being strong,

when it was they who did you wrong.

You will grow,

in spirit,

in strength,

in believing in yourself yet again,

for you must never, ever, find yourself out alone, in the cold, slicing rain.

Life will go on, memories will fade,

faces will blur, scars will heal,

and above all else, you will stand upright,

Never, ever again,

will you bow and kneel.

So, go with the pureness that is wrapped in your heart,

and hush the voices of doom,

and know that when one rose withers,

another one must also bloom.

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