A Cry

Can't you hear
my screeching cry?
Long last letters
hurdled high?
Above the voices
and the prayers,
above the empty chill
and air.
Above, below, and all around.
A place where solace isn't found.
A shrieking substance never mused
and left behind a girl abused
in broken meadows
fields
and grass
and left in swamps
and buried brass.

Can't you hear
my broken cry?
Words still written,
never nigh...
Letters coded,
yet
still the same
as the days
of high end fame.
Message kept
in glass and cold,
to preserve
the blackened smoke.
Hear me, pray, and lend yourself
and the breached lost confident.
Please be brief
for one last show.
Hear my cry,
G-d,
can't you go?