death, outrage, repeat

January 27, 1945: Aushwitz prisoners liberated

November 13, 2015: 130 killed in Paris

1945

ground shook,
pebbles
dancing on strings.
the tanks arrived, and the soldiers
trying not to
gape,
hearts
shattering, seeping
at the edges.
Eyes, hollow.
Souls, loosened.
Bodies, destroyed.

Death may not have a sickle and cape,
we’ll all know someday.
Until then, I see her
veiled,
cold,
hardened
from the work she must do. 

Not so much from her patients, mind.
Many pass into glory,
more blessed than those of us here.
(except for the good people who don’t)
it’s the ones left behind…
We claimed that it would never happen again. 

2015

screams ripped from throats,
chaos bleeding,
city ripped to shreds.
reporters arrived, proclaiming tragedy.
we all announced
our support
our shared pain
for a city outraged.
Wives gone,
Fathers lost,
Sons murdered.

And yet,
are we really surprised?
The world is
broken,
fractured,
at the seams.
There is no safe place, really.

We all run Death into the ground.
She curses us, yet blesses our race
we could do so much
(except when we don’t)
do what we can to beat back the fog…
Don’t let it happen again.
(not without a fight)

Fight.
fight pain with hope,
fight death with singing,
fight terror with diligence. 

Today
fight with furious brush strokes,
bring glory
to shine through the cracks.
joining together in brokenness,
choosing to See
beauty
in the chaos.
Heal hearts,
Touch souls,
Speak life.

trust
that no matter the pain,
if i can mend
one sparrow’s splintered wing,
lift one ailing spirit
out of
agonizing fear,
bless one lonely
stranger
in my path
(even one i never see again),
Life is worth it.