Why do the clouds cry?

Could it be for me?

Deprived of name, flesh, and shoe, trapped in an endless cycle of resentment.

My only crime being that I am different.

No, for if they did they would shroud me in a veil of mist, willing my escape.

Concealing me from my adversaries so that I might fly to freedom!

No, they do not cry for me.

Why do the clouds cry?

Could it be for our captors?

They who seek to purge the world of my alleged evil.

Who, with wicked hearts and weary eyes, look through me as though I were not there.

No, for if they did they would strike me down!

Impale me with divine swords of heat and light.

Alleviating my oppressors from the gruesome tasks they find so necessary.

No, they do not cry for them.

Why do the clouds cry?

Could it be for mankind?

We who harm ourselves and others despite our best intentions?

Ensnared in an endless loop of what-ifs and broken promises?

No, for if they did they would demand change!

Raising their voices like an almighty drum!

Settling not for ignorance, but ordering enlightenment!

No, they do not cry for us.

The clouds cry for themselves.

Selfish, heartless masses hovering just out of reach.

Never daring to risk their own safety on our behalf.

“It’s not my problem!” The dismal entities console. “Survival of the fittest, I say!”

For surely our losses are inconsequential to such superior beings.

The clouds cry for themselves.

As do we all.

We cry for ourselves.

*A tribute to the victims of the holocaust and to those who perished during such bleak times.