😭 The Year the River Wept

In the year the river wept,

Flags burned and mothers prayed,

Children marched with open palms,

While fathers clenched their spades.

The sky wore ash like mourning cloth,

And songs turned into cries—

Yet somewhere in the smoke and blood,

A dove began to rise.

She flew through Memphis, through Hanoi,

Past jungles soaked in flame,

She whispered names the world forgot,

And blessed them just the same.

The saints were not in marble halls,

But barefoot in the street—

A preacher’s echo, a soldier’s ghost,

A child with blistered feet.

And though the world was split in two,

By war, by race, by creed—

The river held its sacred course,

And carried every need.

So let this page not end in rage,

But in a vow to see—

That even in the darkest year,

The river runs toward peace.

🌊📖✨🪶📚🌀🕊️🎙️👣