Tortured Peace

Silence shrieks within my mind,

sorrow snickers with glee.

I navigate by a starless night,

the signs I see aren’t right.

To change yesterday I must learn from tomorrow.

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For Christina

Nine good years bookended by tragedy…

A brown-eyed face of hope

suddenly taken away

leaving a hole like Ground Zero in our soul.

Speak not of political ideologies

nor proud partisan remedies

while our tears still be wet,

rather remember her legacy now.

Yes, now and till the winds of time run out of breath!

Henceforth, let us not lash out in anger

but rather reach out in kindness.

 

Downstairs

Downstairs death stares

electrodes fry her temples

Dr. Freeman taps the ice pick.

Lightning strikes temples of gods long dead

cottontail rabbit diligently digging his hole.

Downstairs death stares

like lilies of the field

scorched by the late summer sun

the Son commends His spirit

neath the cheering of the bloodthirsty throng.

Downstairs death stares

waves of horsemen and archers under one flag exact revenge on waves of horsemen and archers under another

all ignoring the nagging truth:

If compassion be honest, no sin remains.

Downstairs death stares

but what about up above?

With a vacant stare He looks down there

like a puzzled mechanic under a hood

and God saw that it was good.

They lied

They lied

But if it were as simple as that would we be debating

the conundrum of impending doom

and the referendum on a compendium of crimes

with no rhyme or reason for the treason?

They lied.

But if it were as simple as that would we be discussing

the quandary of death

while wandering in freedom’s last breath?

They lied.

But if it were as simple as that would we be upset

with the lack of a plan

or the acknowledgement we’re damned?

They lied.

But if it were as simple as that –

Wait…

It is as simple as that.