Love

Its recognition is all we have,

when we cry, when we want to die, when we sigh,

there is a place that is waiting,

when the wrath is over, while in the midst we remain frantic,

we always question just why,

where is it we were told to ready ourselves to take out,

take out nicely, obliterate, accentuate carnage,

express rage toward the existence of humanity.

 

We are talking about numbers,

four different descriptions,

10, then 20, now 60, finally 59

fucking Tomahawk Missiles …

I’m so enraged I cannot even spell the words.

I know when I was a kid,

I just saw the news I didn’t understand.

Tonight, what they call ‘a slap on the wrist’

is spilling the blood of our humanity,

 

We all are part of this.

We still could, we might try,

hold your loves, we all can feel our hearts tonight.

Love exists.