When someone is taken senselessly, like the victims of Sandy Hook
We don’t know where to go for answers, we don’t know where to look.
We are angry, no we are furious, we are bitter…we are sad
As we not only mourn the loss of their life… but the life they should have had.
When a hurricane randomly destroys whole towns as it did on the Eastern shore
People begin to lose their faith, “Why me, God?” they implore.
The truth is there are no answers and any reasons would be imprecise
Besides when you stop to think about it, is there any answer that would suffice?
A firefighter from New Jersey combined with a host of volunteers
Has found a way to ease the pain…to substitute laughter for the tears.
It’s called the Sandy Ground Project and it was started as a way
To provide hope where there was none…at a place where angels can play.
26 playgrounds are being built so that in time we won’t overlook
The teachers… the children…the families…the victims of Sandy Hook.
They’re being built to help the people who perhaps now need them the most
The people and families who lost everything when Sandy roared up the coast.
We all have tragedies in our lives and must cope with the sadness they spawn
We turn to our friends and family as we search for reasons to go on.
Then one day we smile, not that we’re over our loss, for that sorrow will never end
But we ask ourselves a question and the answer helps our heart start to mend.
We think of the person whose life was cut short, we are forced to reflect…to review
Then slowly we step out of the darkness and ask…what would they want us to do?
And though it doesn’t help ease the sorrow it does help us all to survive
Because the answer to that simple question helps welcome joy back into our lives.
And if we’re lucky the joy and the sorrow coexist, yes they find a way
Perhaps together they form the hope we all need…at a place where the angels can play.
That is simply beaufial
That is simply beaufial
Real, and really nice as
Real, and really nice as well. Loved the rhyming.
..
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "