Rising early while the world burns

The Olive Trees, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

 

When I wake

The sky is crying

And I think of a more quiet night

 

A brighter day when maybe

From the sky will come rain

And not tears

 

Sometimes it feels silly

Or wrong to dream

To long for sweet water

 

While olive groves burn

As children are buried

And starved bodies smolder

 

Still we must dream

Of rainfall without suffering

Of water without terror

Of children, of olives and earth