Nine Eleven

In a sudden blast of fire
My life stopped having meaning.
Dreams of flames, voices screaming
And one of them, oh Lord, was mine!
No, don't tell me it'll all be fine.
Nothing will be alright
When my sons have gone to fight
In a black scary bird.
My screams weren't even heard
Because nobody cared.
The world was all too scared
Who would care about a mother
Who in this world would bother
With my tears and my pain?
For the untouched it was all so vain . . .
"Oh, you have the Lord, you must trust"
They told me, from the last to the first
At Church, in the School, in the street.
So unprepared I was left to meet
The shadow of death all alone . . .

Dalva Agne Lynch


A Letter to My Five Children

The Eternal put you in my womb, and I carried you
As I carried all of my dreams of beauty and love.
Then I saw you, pure flesh, as He breathed His Spirit into you
And you became a living soul before my very eyes.
And I loved you. You became my life, my reason for living
That very reason for living I had lost seeing the cruelty of men.
I hugged you in my trembling arms and gave you my breast.
What else could I give you? As a tree growing in the wilderness
I gave you my essence to feed you - and I gave you my dreams
To cover up the ugly truth of a world without love and without God.
And now - now you're grown. I did all I could to prepare you to reality.
I gave you weapons to fight for a place under our sun
Which shines on men regardless of right or wrong
And a place under the cold pouring rain
Which falls over every field, regardless of being it tares or wheat.
So now, as you walk through this Valley of the shadow of death
And scrape your pride and your knees on the stony paths of Life
I can only pray and wait and tremble with you.
But whatever life dishes out to you
Be it in silver or clay plates, or with gold or wood spoons
Just remember, my love:
I'll always be here for you.

© Dalva Agne Lynch, 2004

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For My Soldier Boys

I don't have words anymore.
I wish everything was as before
when you were here with me.
But you had to be free
and I had to let you go.
Now all I have is hope
to help me to cope
with my endless everyday.
And you are so far away . . .

No, I don't have words anymore.
I can't write you a letter
I can't make you feel better.
I can just pray for you
and wait for you
as you pursue your dreams
and my heart just screams
for you -- so far away . . .

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Silence

It was day when I cried
but no one heard.
And if they heard
they turned their backs
mocking me:
The fool cries!
It was day when the birds
rested their wings
- except the metal birds
carrying my son
to War.
And the petals of all flowers
fell to the ground
- except the red roses
of bombs . . .
In desperation
the entire Earth cried
for it had come the time
for the Sword.
But men scorned.
And in shameful silence
they turned their backs
on me.

Gift You came to me as a borrowed gift for just a short time. I just didn't realize how short was that time and how great was that gift. Then I lost you and my life was a search. When I found you you came to me as a borrowed gift for just a short time. By then I knew how short would be that time and how great was that gift. My son in blood my brother in faith my friend in truth. My beloved gift whom I lend to the Battle for just a short time. For now I know how infinite is our gift and how Eternity has no time.   Dádiva Você veio a mim dádiva de empréstimo por apenas um pouco de tempo. Não me dei conta de quão pouco seria o tempo e quão preciosa era a dádiva. E então perdi você e a vida se tornou busca. Quando encontrei você você veio a mim dádiva de empréstimo por apenas um pouco de tempo. Mas agora eu sabia quão pouco seria o tempo e quão preciosa era a dádiva. Meu filho em sangue meu irmão em fé meu amigo em verdade. Minha preciosa dádiva que empresto à Batalha por apenas um pouco de tempo. Pois agora eu sei quão infinita é nossa dádiva e que não existe tempo na Eternidade. Dalva Agne Lynch March 2003

March 18, 2003

Let the petals fall from all the flowers
and let the birds stop their songs!
Today beauty has no meaning.
Let the children speak in whispers
with no laughter or play
and let the lovers lower their gaze
lest they show their glow.
Today love has no meaning.
Let the mother carrying a child
desperately hold on to the moment
for that may be all there is
after the birth pains.
Today
black birds took off to skies
uselessly blue.
They've carried away
my son.

Songs of War
(Third Song)

The boy plays
with his toys.
Toys don't kill.
The boy does.

The boy grew up
with no toys.
He didn't grow up.
The toys did.

The mother weeps
for his boy.
The War plays
at killing boys.

Dalva Agne Lynch

2.24.03 22:31

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Vikings and the Savage of Northern Mythology, by Carl Rikhard Carlenstierna