The sisters worked for the people round them
|
Their Spanish lace wove some bread for the poor
|
And they cared and tried but were worn with
|
Their fears and the years of heartbreak
|
|
Dust and wine stained the men who knew them
|
The sweat of days in the angry sun
|
And the men were weak, and they cried
|
And they asked, "Sisters, make us holy."
|
|
The sisters prayed, "Give us hope for something."
|
The men asked, "Where is your God today?"
|
And the empty eyes as the sisters prayed held
|
Their thoughts unspoken
|
|
There was nothing they could do
|
Earth was dust for miles around
|
Nothing new survived
|
Everything was barren on the land
|
And the truth they tried to understand just died
|
|
Everything was barren on the land
|
And the truth they tried to understand just died
|
|
-----------------
|
The Sisters
|
Renaissance |