Three Eight Thirty

Three years of ugliness: unimaginable

Eight months of injustice: inconceivable

Thirty days that will never be undone

And so a people shed tears of grace - beaten but not gone.

Three years, but never over

Eight months, still stories untold

Thirty days with wounds still healing

The sting of the past now burns as the sun.

Three years, eight months, thirty days they tried,

Yet peace and patience blooms in humble, forgiving eyes.

So precious as flower that smiles with determined hope,

That three years, eight months, thirty days are forever gone.