Like a woman in labor, in pains, dying to bring forth life
so my soul tears up to create peace.
Peace within to soothe my being,
peace without that leaves me to others.
The plans of men, the plans of others,
totally misunderstanding my mind in order.
A mind at war with peace at the price of freedom;
freedom to hold, freedom to love.
I know not what it is I do
nor what I have done to deserve all these:
My heart is flesh, this flesh is dust.
The dust turns grey as the sun sets at dusk.
The Sun will rise when its time comes;
the clouds like men will hold me not.