Poem By Dorothy Ardelle Merriam
The voices cry on the wind between the dusk and the dawn,
plaintive, sad, unseen.
They cry from the wilderness, shriveling, forlorn,
for goodness flown, hope gone,
for pitiless deeds from frenetic minds.
They cry a dirge for love because time is old and stance
of strength is dead.
They cry because once they did not cry,
Because once they lived in one known as man, who laughed
and sang and loved,
Because once the rose bloomed, the night was soft, the
rain was gentle and the soul song bright.
The voices cry - they cry on the wind -
The voices cry.