Forgotten Whispers

 Forgotten Whispers

For those who fell in battle,

We raise a cry of sorrow,

Under a sky ablaze,

In a shattered landscape.

Where bullets silenced,

And dreams were forgotten.

In the arms of abandonment,

Their voices were lost,

And the stories were erased

Like atrocious pages.

Ashes remained in the mind,

In hearts so fierce.

In the land that was once alive,

Time no longer rushes,

The ghosts still walk

In pain that cannot be expressed.

Childhood turned into longing

In the cruelest of promises.

Orphaned children crying

Without a lullaby,

Without their mother's kiss,

Only the night bleeding.

They have fear as their friend,

And darkness to live in.

O infinite mercy,

Come down now from the altar,

Upon the torn childhood

That we could not heal.

They are seeds of sadness

That insist on germinating.

To the women who still wait

For life amid terror,

May their wombs be light,

A warm shelter of love.

Even among the cold rubble,

Faith sprouting with fervour.

May forgiveness be the crown

Of this wounded pregnancy.

May love be a shield

In reborn hope.

And may peace take the paths

Of this consumed land.

To the mothers who were left alone,

In the corners of loneliness,

To the sisters and companions,

Our song, our prayer.

May war drop its steel

And break into compassion.

May kings bend their knees,

And weapons be destroyed.

May tyrants be ashes

And peoples embrace each other.

May justice rise up

And pain be eased.

O war, vile creature,

Thief of tenderness and laughter,

You drink from our pain

And impoverish our judgement.

You leave tears on the ground

And shame in the warning.

But there are still those who resist,

Those who pray by candlelight,

Poets who still write,

Singers who reveal themselves.

In every verse a protest,

In every song, a star.

For those who bled on this earth,

May love be a bridge.

May every open wound

Be healed at the dawn of the mountain.

And may the last hope

Be kept in the fountain.

For those who were silenced

Without a voice, without a farewell,

May the angels bring their names

And rescue them to life.

From the flames and horrors,

Free every wound.

May weapons become hoes,

And thrones, cradles of flowers.

May cars become trees,

And love walk free.

May peace become a road

And undo all pain.

To every forgotten soul,

We write this song,

For they lived their days, yes,

Even in harsh conditions.

They died with empty hands,

But full of compassion.

Without sword, without shield,

But fighting to live.

May justice recognise them

And bring them back to life.

May laughter overcome the drums

And the garden grow.

May hatred not command us,

Nor fear convince us.

May those who dreamed of peace

Find love as their reward.

And may heaven take away the pain

With its sweet presence.

May the rain wash the roofs

Of widows without shelter,

And may every tear

Be remembered and felt.

If the world dares to forget,

Poetry cries out for life!

For the pen is mightier

Than the oppressor's sword.

Memory is a living flame,

It is the guardian of love.

Before we lose everything,

May the redeemer shine.

O war, cease your march

Before it is too late.

May honour not be a wound

Nor turn into a challenge

The mission of being human

Into such an empty legacy.

May peace become the path

And love, our song.

Before the soul is lost

In the embers of darkness.

Let us be the voice of hope,

Humans at heart!

Fernando Matos 

Brazilian Poet 🇧🇷 

From Pernambuco