Waiting For The Next Mourn

Is there a place where I can sit and see…
The horizon as the sun climbs oh so freely?
An answer to which I did have.
Its why I offered the seat by my side.
The traveler sat with short introductions.
I greeted them well with soft inflections.
Then we both stared toward the sky.
But I only know of what I pondered and why.
It was about those days when thinks were grim.
I recall them as if they were times we are still in.
The bodies littering the ground.
Not one still able to make a sound.
That deafening silence shattered by the booms.
Some far off while others were in nearby rooms.
The fear I felt, the pain I saw.
None of it will leave my mind no more.
For those were days where tyranny…
It reigned as if it was always meant to be.
Mercifully those days were laid down to die.
As was the architect of all those manufactured lies.
Its why now as I grow old…
I sit out on my porch whether its warm or cold.
Watch the sun rise into view.
A reminder that darkness will not be eternal.