The day, as it began Showed no promise to be different, The oppressed, ill fated souls watched Another sun rising from the east, Tearing up the darkness, Little they knew- It, for once, was meant to be destiny. The guns never gave up Obstinate roars, With mere glimpses of hope, The never ending attempt For resistance Was falling apart, When completely lifeless objects Claimed lives. Voices, Choked in hunger, Spoke out; Crumbling legs Stood up, The stir spread like fire and swept everything on its way; No one cried from Anguish, loss or disillusionment Anymore, Tears spilled in joy When the years of servitude Was beginning to end. The day was different For those Who lived to see the end of it. I am linking this poem to Dversepoets OpenLinkNight, Week 45. You can also participate every Tuesdays, 3 PM EST and read some wonderful poetry. Tweet … Read entire article »