She was the fallen statue’s lasting sigh
Brought into being by great enterprise,
As brilliance of sight at first sunrise
Not fearing hopelessness of last goodbye;
She was the laughter in the barren streets
Where unwalked paths converged and departed;
She was the smile that one heart started
In the morn that followed beneath war’s feet;
She was the seedling of a little tree,
That from the barren path began anew
The life that had been smothered where it grew;
She was the thought like a drop in the sea,
That started the words that would silence break;
She was proof that life would not forsake.