Weeping meadows weep.
The rose is to bleed.
It is of ages and it flourished…
Only to be cut down and
Have its wages garnished.
Weep-the sun was once amazing.
Now the daisies have become lazy.
Weeping meadows weep…
The crown of thorn has been worn…
The skin has been torn.
A version of this poem was previously published in The Ethiopian Herald newspaper.
