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.