Brothers in Sorrow
Bitter gales rip through their resolve
Hope sinks and rises with the waves
They two making journeys
Against hope and of hope
Expectations shattered by reality
But all along reminding themselves
“This is better than the other”
All things hard and cold
Are better than captivity
Hunger, pain, loneliness
All is better than bondage
So without an ounce of hope
We rise and work, and eat and sleep
And cling to a desperate kind of contentment
One that brings no joy
Except from the knowledge
That we alone have hewn it out of these stones
That our blood ran along this ground
That our loves rest in darkest graves
And yet we still survive
Surviving just to prove we will
To prove that the ideal is worthwhile
That freedom is more than any illusion
Never even hoping to reap our own harvest
Foreseeing the tillage and the tears
If only that the children shall be free
Of the tyrants and the slave mongers
But sometime in the spring
A wanderer comes back home
To a place once filled with death
To find uncommon companions
Souls seeking freedom as himself
And the brown and the pale prove irrelevant
To these brothers in sorrow
The pain blazing trails of trust
Stomachs fill and hearts break
Beneath the weight
Of unimaginable gratitude
A short while of true human connection
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