I will look in the mirror and see a person that I respect

this is the face
of a weary man
furrowed by the years
of sacrifices
this is the hair of a lonely man
spaced by the cruelty
of time
this is the nose that breathes
the agony of history
these eyes speak the silence
of the wolves
these lips kissed the misery
of the torn bosom of the
hills
these are the ears that listened
to the screams of the villages
this is the face that fought
the age of terror

the mirror draws my face
that i could have forgotten
now my son
you must earn respect

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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