Kiara Shanay Lee
When I hear a child cry
My stomach drops
It plunges
For miles and miles
It doesn’t matter if the child is America’s or
Sudan’s or
Mexico’s or
Iran’s
Or somebody else’s
When the children sing their song
I can’t help but to sing along
Broken lullabies of broken times
And war and exploitation and
Destitution
Not by choice but by design
At the hands of somebody
Somebody else
Lord help
All these children are mine and
My child is each and every one
But the saddest tragedy of it all is
Not their cry
The saddest tragedy of it all is
The way the others turn a blind eye
The way they go on with life and
Try to make these wrongs right
Complicit in the death and the dying of
Morality
It’s a new day
But children are still crying
And as humanity descends
We find ourselves farther and farther from the light
Only God knows what darkness the children see at night

Whether you’re a writer, a painter, an actress, or if you don’t consider any fancy titles for yourself – you are a creative. No matter who you are, to some degree, we all create and we all need space to take care of every part of ourselves. I hope The House of Psalm Magazine inspires you to take good care.
Dr. Kiara Shanay Lee | Editor in Chief, The House of Psalm Magazine
IG: @thehouseofpsalm @kiaraleewrites | kiara@thehouseofpsalm.com
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