Woven Birds

The plaza in the village

Where mission bells used to ring

Is now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruin

Even the swallows have vanished

No longer return every spring

All the blossoms are buried

'neath the waste

Out of the shadows grow hatred

Along the corridor crawls fear

Crushed by the promise of hope

That never returned

Watched with a hawk's trained eye

The trees grow silent fruit

'neath a suffering sky

Those who have stayed, keep a flame

In memory of the fallen

And pass on the old rites despite the risk

But many more have left here

On mended broken wings

Turn to see your reaction

A tear drop fills your eye

But you protest not to give up or give in

Heading straight for the wreckage

Picking up a shovel and a hoe

Start putting back the bricks one by one

Numbers come out of the woodwork

Curious to see the rebirth

Above the swollen clouds

A strange sound fills the air

A silence never heard

Falling like blessed rain

And the swallows return

As the mission bells ring