Written for s young Mother on Death Row in Texas. http://www.fordarlieroutier.org/
I know not how my sister meets her day,
The day without the touch of loving hands.
Belief can change what haunts the troubled clay,
Thus we aspire to see the peaceful lands.
I know not how my sister sees her day,
I cannot imagine what it is like
To have those days, I am without a way
To know her sad life or live out her fight,
I know not how my sister makes her day.
We keep the faith, We fight for what is right,
We know that truth is stronger than their nay,
The lies they say slows not the holy fight.
Truth triumphs over all those haunting lies,
We make the snoozing people hear her cries.
I am not related to the subject of this poem.
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