aloque

Too much grief, too many voices

screaming for a saviour's touch.

They pass over my dull senses,

overwhelmed by the sea of torment.

Helplessly, my desperate hands

stay limp, saving my own stony soul

from the stillness of their breath,

from the standstill of their hearts.

Mechanical, I stare into their eyes

to make sure of what was inevitable.

Hours of pointless battle waged

day in and out, night in and out,

as I stand by, an overrated observer.

My ears still hear the wrenching cries

of a mother whose dreams just died,

but they lose themselves on the way,

never reaching my heart, my eyes

concentrate on the pen and paper, as

I scribble names that never were.