在那里

If hearts could sing, 

what music would mine make?

Would it thump with fiery drums?
The chanting and singing of war?
A raw chaotic beat of hatred and angst?

Or would it be a resigned sighing?

The whispering of men with broken spirit,
A wearied murmur of Hope crushed and lost.

It may scream the wails of banshees
Horrifying yet beautiful, resilient yet despairing.
The futile cries for the dead long and gone.

It may be the howl of a lone wolf
The steely cold of the midnight breeze.
The confidence of a maverick calm and free.

But where can it find?

The peace and grace of a dancer?
The contentment of a clear bell ring?
The joy of a silent prayer answered.